


The Avvarian Girl

by DarkxKirlia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And Inquisition, And Manipulation, Avvar, Avvarian, Avvarian main character, Bamf Main Character, Because Mc is a wreck, Because it gets more explicit later on, But I'll get there someday?, Complicated Backstory, Courtesans and harlots oh my!, Demons too, F/M, Fade Sex is a thing, Hard choices are made, I don't know what I'm doing, I make things up, I'm sorry but it's true, I've been writing this for years now, Is that how this quote works?, It's just always been called that, It's really hard writing a main character who isn't traditionally snarky, Kirkwall, Knowledgeable main character, Mage main character, Mages, Morally grey main character, More sex details to be added later, Multi, Possible Dub-Con, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Power Play, Qunari, Saarebas, Slavery, So many gods, Spirits, Spy networks are a thing, Takes place in Dragon Age 2, Templars, Tevinter fucks everything up, Tevinter's not much better though, The Black City, The Blooming Rose, The Fade, The Qunari are dicks, There will be sex, Title is subject to change, Unhealthy Relationships, Vengeance is also a thing, and death, and fails, and it's never been posted, as usual, brief time magic, but now she demands her story to be told, but she still makes mistakes, don't judge my terrible translations, emotional whiplash, enslavement, fanon history, like all of them - Freeform, so many, this is gonna be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22641709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkxKirlia/pseuds/DarkxKirlia
Summary: “You can’t be a demon...you’re a god, aren’t you?” I wondered.“Hm? Who’s to say I’m not both? Are you not a daughter to your parents and sister to your sibling? We can be many things to many different people. Perhaps one day you will be known as a demon as well.” I took a step back
Comments: 14
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for clicking on my work! I'm excited to share this story, though also nervous. I've been working on this story off and on for a few years now. 
> 
> A few notes before we begin:  
> -Dragon Age and the dragon age universe in no way belong to me. The dragon age universe belongs to its creators and developers. I am merely playing in the sandbox.  
> -This story features a wide variety of characters with a wide variety of different opinions, beliefs, and ideals, including my own original characters. An opinion or belief of a character does not equate to my own opinions or beliefs.  
> -This story will deal with uncomfortable topics. At the moment, there is no non-con, underage, incest, or rape, and there likely never will be. However, the story as it is so far written does include prostitution, character death, slavery, abuse, gas-lighting, and violence. This story will also involve unhealthy, dangerous, and toxic romantic relationships. It will also likely include dub-con and power play. If you would like to comment on these topics, you are free to do so. I recognize that they are and can be upsetting. However, expressing how a chapter/scene may make you feel and insulting the author are different things. Please refrain from coming to me upset because of the content in the story. I have given you ample warning here and in the tags.  
> -This fic is a first draft, meaning it contains spelling and grammar mistakes, and likely will have continuity and story errors. If you would, I would appreciate it if you point out these problems, especially the continuity errors. I whole-heartedly appreciate constructive criticism. 
> 
> Alright, I think that's all the notes to give here. I hope you enjoy this prologue, and please give me feedback if you are up to it! <3 much love!

I suppose that despite my hardships, the chains I wear now are of my own doing. I certainly can’t say that I don’t deserve them, though it is painful. This could be my last night alive, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Apart of me wants to fight, to force my way through the cold metal bars caging me and fight off whatever enemy holding me. Another part of me almost welcomes death. I have been fighting for so long, and...I suppose I want some peace.   
But first, I need to look back on it all. Remember who I was and what I did, so that I don’t forget myself, wherever it is I may go in the afterlife. I have to remember and know that my life was worth living. 

My life was not always one of chains. The first twelve years of my life were full of freedom. I was born to an Avvarian tribe. My father was a warrior of the SilverStream clan, and my mother a skywatcher whom he stole away from her clan. Both of my parents were mages in their own right, though my mother was far more talented in magic than my father. Because both of my parents were mages, it was expected that I, and my siblings, would be as well. 

On the day of my birth, three large bears entered the camp. The bears showed no interest in my people but instead made straight for the tent I was in. They entered the tent, and to my mother’s shock, each nuzzled the top of my head. The Shaman of our people declared that Sigfrost had named me his chosen daughter and that I was blessed. From then on, I became a bit of a princess to my clan, if the term had existed to my people. I was loved by my people, and my parents taught me from the second I could understand what magic was, and what spirits were, and about the gods. I knew how to control my magic before it had even manifested. 

Four years after my birth, my sister was born. Hers was a day equally as special as my own, though in a different way. On the day of her birth, the shaman claimed to have seen a gryphon fly overhead of the camp. Gryphons were said to be magical beings, servants of the Lady of the Sky. Gryphons had not been seen in centuries, and it was declared that like me, my sister had been blessed by a god. The Shaman then declared that my parent's line was holy, and all children from then on would also be children of gods. 

Except, my parents could not have more children. It was fine though, and it seemed my sister and I were considered holy enough for the tribe without any more siblings. 

My childhood was filled with love. Say what you will about the Avvar, but we were a family. Our clan helped each other. We may have lived like savages, but we were savages with love, loyalty, and honor. We had our traditions and our gods, far separated from those that most people in Ferelden or Orlais believed in. 

My days were spent with many things, mostly helping the tribe. I may have been like a princess to them, but that didn’t mean I was exempt from chores or basic tasks. It was discovered early on that I was quiet, collected, and smart. The Avvarian children weren’t taught the same things as those raised under the Chantry, but we had our own knowledge and books. I devoured it all. I had a deep craving to understand things as they were, and as they could be. There was a point, on my eighth birthday, that I asked for more books to read, as I had read every single one we had in the camp. 

I was also sure-footed. Though lacking in physical strength and prowess, I was quick and agile. I could weave between the trees that stretched across our forests like any good wolf or deer. One of my jobs in the tribe became looking out for travelers or soldiers, or any who may show us hostility or harm. 

I was four when I started showing signs of magic. Quite early, as most would say, but magic wasn’t something that was feared for the Avvar. It was revered, and those who held magic often went on to become some of the most important people in our tribes. The Fade wasn’t feared either, or spirits. Growing up, I was told that as long as I was a friend to the spirits, the spirits would be a friend to me. Of course, I was taught how to guard against demons and to recognize them. It was only natural that though we favored spirits above all other people, we were still wary of the darkness they could manifest into. 

My first friend was a spirit. A wisdom spirit, who watched me while I dreamed in the fade. She was kind and intelligent and answered all of the questions I ever asked-which was quite a bit of questions to answer. We spent many nights talking in the Fade, but one night, she was gone. I never saw her again. I think at the time I thought she was angry with me, but I look back and realize that she most likely was summoned and consequently turned into a demon. It still saddens me greatly. 

Diala was my little sister. She was as blessed as I was, though in very different ways. Where I was up all night reading by firelight, Diala was up at dawn, ready for a new adventure. She was constantly sneaking off to explore, and more often than not she came home with some kind of injury to be treated. She seemed to make friends with all kinds of creatures, and she tended to save all injured animals she came across. Diala was dawn while I was dusk. She was loud where I was quiet, and wild where I was tame. We were opposites, but that never seemed to stop us from being the best of friends. 

When I turned six, I began to spend most of my day's training in magic. I took an immediate shine to the mystic arts, but everyone was still shocked that day we learned I could shapeshift. It came so naturally like I was meant to do it. I had done it plenty of times in the fade, so I suppose it made it easier. I turned into a small bear cub right before the Shaman’s eyes. You can imagine her surprise. My shapeshifting magic was easily accepted though, once we figured out how I turned back. 

I was capable of other magic as well. Strangely enough, I picked up fade centered magic long before I picked up the easier levels of magic, such as force or healing. I suppose I was just more spiritually focused. Diala, in contrast, started setting magical fires at the ripe age of three, and it only got more chaotic from there. Luckily, once she stopped thinking it was hilarious to watch our parents scramble to put the fires out, she got a hold of her magic fairly easily. 

Like I said, my life was...good. Great, even. I had a tribe of people whom I knew and loved and two parents who took care of me, and a little sister whom I adored and treasured. I was happy. 

Tevinter ruined that.


	2. Chapter one: A normal day in the Frostbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something doesn't feel right.

It was an unusually hot day in the Frostbacks. I had felt it the moment I woke, beads of sweat surfacing on my clammy skin. The air felt tense and heady, and I would’ve sworn I had fallen asleep by the fire if it hadn’t been for the missing sound of wood cracking under the heat. 

I groaned to myself, shucking the pelts I had previously been curled into, and sitting up. Our family's tent was a mess, as usual, pelts and clothes and books were strewn about. The light of daylight streamed in through the opening flap of the tent, informing me that I had yet again slept in. 

“Callie! Mama says to get up or she’ll feed ya to the pigs!” Diala peeked her head inside the tent flap, grinning down at me, her tongue sticking through the spot where her two front teeth should’ve been. She was already eight, but she’d just barely started to lose teeth, and her front teeth had been the first to go. She looked like old Man Jarvian, the tribe’s old nutcase who’d lost most of his teeth about a solid decade ago, or so I’m told. 

“She threatens that every time I sleep in. You’d think she’d get a new line.” I grumbled, standing up and stretching my aching limbs. Diala giggled, rushing into the tent and grabbing my hand in her own, much smaller one. Diala was my younger sister by four years, though I could already tell she was going to be much prettier than me. She had inherited mother’s obsidian hair, and though it was unruly, it shined in sunlight and reminded me of raven feathers. Mother had braided it back it seemed, though already several strands were flying away in the wind. She was tall for her age and had a large speckling of freckles over her button nose and cheeks. She was always smiling and laughing, despite the empty gaps in her mouth where her teeth should be. 

I loved her to pieces. She was dawn and I was dusk, and we could not have gotten along better. 

Diala pulled me out of the tent and into the open campsite. Several tribe members hovered around, doing tasks such as sewing up torn clothing or preparing the food for tonight’s supper. Agnes, one of the tribe's warriors, was loitering about, and she seemed on edge about something. Diala seemed intent to ignore her obvious distress though and attempted to pull me towards the clearing leading into the forest surrounding the camp. I didn’t budge. 

“Dia, is Agnes okay?” I asked softly. Diala stopped, shooting me a nasty and impatient glare. 

“Who cares? Agnes is always nervous about something. Let’s go play! I found a giant boulder centered in the middle of a meadow, it’ll be so fun to climb!” She tugged at me again, but I couldn’t stop the nagging sense that something was wrong. 

“Just give me a moment, Dia.” Diala pouted but stood her ground as I moved towards Agnes. The middle-aged woman was pacing now, and I almost stopped when I saw the crazed look in her eyes. Agnes had always been a bit more paranoid than the rest of the tribe. She saw danger when there was none, and she wasn’t particularly fond of me. Where the rest of the tribe saw my unusual birth as a sign of the gods blessing us, Agnes had believed it to be a warning. She thought it meant I would bring trouble to the tribe. 

“Agnes? Are you alright?” I asked timidly. She came to a dead stop, fixing her haunted gaze upon me. I gulped, shuffling a few steps back. Her warpaint was smeared across her face in red streaks that looked too much like blood, and her eyes were so wide you’d thought she’d seen a demon. 

“Look, look what I found!” I barrelled back as Agnes shoved something in my face. I barely caught it before it hit the ground, righting myself and then inspecting the object before me. It was a tattered piece of fabric, clearly having been trodden over by the feet of heavy boots. The fabric was soft and silky, the color a royal blue. On the ripped piece of fabric, was the symbol of the Tevinter Imperium. 

The Vints and the Avvarian people were in constant war. Magisters and their parties were constantly trekking through the Frostbacks, attacking our tribes, murdering our people, and taking us as slaves. One of our sister tribes further up North had been attacked and massacred about two moons ago. I only knew of this because it was my mother’s tribe, and she had cried in her sleep for weeks. Our tribe had traveled further south after that, attempting to keep out of their reach, but they had a tendency to show up sporadically. Our people had dealt with groups of them before, though never a full party with a Magister leading them. 

“How far was this from the camp?” I asked, looking up at Agnes with a scrutinizing gaze. Despite our problems with the Vints, it wasn’t uncommon to find pieces of clothing or articles around the Frostbacks, leftover from their trekkings. They were good indicators of places we should avoid, but not really something we got too worried about-yet. 

“I was doin’ me normal surveying’ of the mountain, about a mile east of the Camp. I found it there, swaying in the branch of a tree. I ain’t seen it on that route any other time I’ve walked it.” Agnes looked positively perturbed. Still, a part of me wanted to be rational. I imagine Agnes went immediately to the Thane, who told her that there was nothing to be worried about. If the Thane wasn’t worried, then I shouldn’t be worried. 

Still…

Something about the day felt weird. A stifled feeling in the air maybe, or the quietness of the forest. Perhaps it was my heightened magical senses. I had many spirit friends in the Fade, all of whom would attempt to warn me if something were amiss. Perhaps they were trying to send a message? I had woken not long ago though, and surely they would have contacted me while I dreamed? 

Something just wasn’t right. I couldn’t place my finger on it, perhaps I was paranoid, but I had to check. 

“I’ll scan the area. Just to be sure.” Agnes’ face showed relief. She reached down, placing a large and calloused hand upon the top of my head. 

“Many thanks, Calendula. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to the tribe.” I smiled at her, and then turned to Diala, gripping her hand. 

“Agnes is worried there may be Magisters about. I said I would check around. Do you want to come with me?” I asked. Diala puffed out her cheeks in annoyance but nodded. I closed my eyes, focusing my mind and magic on the form I wished to take. I thought about the growl of a bear, the way its curious eyes searched for fish in a river. My body began to morph, shrinking down until I stared out upon the camp in the form of a bear cub. Diala was beside me, her form that of a sandy wolf pup. We met each other’s gaze and then took off into the forest. 

There was something so exhilarating about being an animal. Being human, you’re surrounded by so many rules and emotions and thoughts. While I was still myself when I took the form of a bear, I felt freer. I wasn’t subject to the rules of my people, or society, or anyone. I knew Dia felt the same. 

We raced past trees and rocks at a pace we never would have been capable of in our human forms. While we did we scanned the area for any signs of people that were not our own. We took a path towards the East, where Agnes had been earlier. As we got closer, I realized that there was a scent in the air, and from the way her ears perked up, Diala smelled it too. We shared a look, and then Diala ran forward, jumping up on top of a large rock to survey the area. While she did that, I took to scouting around, inhaling deeply. The scent was musky and leathery, with the smell of something very...magical. What was that stuff those Templar guys drank? The blue stuff? I wasn’t sure. 

“Did you find anything?” I turned, finding Diala back in her human form. She was breathing deeply, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. I transformed back, reaching out and grabbing hold of her hands and held them comfortingly on my own. 

“It smells like it could be them. We need to get back to the camp and warn the tribe.” She nodded, still shaking violently, but full of determination. 

“I’ll turn into a falcon, I can get back faster.” She stuttered, removing her hands from mine. 

“Good idea. I’ll return on foot and take the western route, see if they went that way and I can block them off.” I turned to run, only for Diala to reach out and grab hold of my arm. When I looked at her again, there were tears in her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. 

“Callie, you can’t take on magisters on your own.” She whimpered. I shook my head. 

“I won’t. I’ll cast a paralysis spell, try to slow them down, and then run back to camp. I’ll be fine. Go.” I ordered, and then turned on my heel and took off. 

It wasn’t as easy navigating the forest in this form, my human stamina and uncoordinated legs making it difficult to make sharp turns or keep up a satisfactory pace. My magic had its limits though, and if I transformed again so soon I would severely deplete my mana. 

Despite my slower pace, it didn’t take me long to come across the party of Vints. They were undoubtedly making their way towards camp, and they had two magisters walking at the very front of their party. I wrapped a hand over my mouth, to stop from making any noises. If they heard me, I would surely be hurt or killed. I followed them for a short while, hiding behind trees or in bushes. I was only twelve, and they were bigger and stronger and more powerful, but I had a distinct advantage; I knew these forests like I knew the back of my own hand. 

I followed them for several minutes, trying to pick up on their conversation, but I knew very little, if none, of Tevene. I had learned much of the common language in Ferelden, as was necessary, but Tevene had never been considered an important language to learn. You don’t have to speak the language of your enemies to kill them. 

Several minutes into their trek, the group stopped abruptly. I darted behind an old oak tree, peeking my head out to watch them closely. They spoke rapidly, and though I couldn’t understand them they sounded as if they were arguing. I took that as my chance. I called upon the magic coursing through my veins, letting the background hum of it become a full chorus of sound echoing inside my head. 

The Vints had a split second to recognize the symbol glowing beneath their feet, before they found themselves paralyzed, feet stuck to the ground beneath them. There were rushed words spoken in Tevene, and fighting against the pull of the magic. 

I stepped out from behind the tree, walking towards them. I had told Diala that I would return to the tribe, but I knew two magisters could destroy us with their dark magic. There were so few mages in the tribe, myself, Diala, and our parents the only members besides the Shaman. 

“Little girl! Did you cast this spell? Release us at once!” One of the Magisters called out in the common language of Ferelden. I snorted in response. Of course, he wouldn’t speak Avvarian. Rarely anyone outside of our tribes did. 

I ignored their complaints, and instead focused on my magic. I called upon the magic of the fade, allowing it to fill me with power. I could feel the gentle support of my spirit friends-Valor, Wisdom, and Compassion. I sent a jolt of that power at the Vints. They shrieked, many of them fighting to get out of the way only to fail. Several, however, including the two magisters, were able to break the paralysis and move out of the way in the nick of time. A jolt of lightning was quickly thrown back my way, and I barely missed the attack by the skin of my teeth. 

I threw myself at the ground, narrowly avoiding another burst of magical energy thrown my way. The dirt clung to my palms as I rolled over onto my back, pushing myself back up to my feet. I barely spared the Vints a glance, turning to run from the altercation. Several shouts followed me, but I ignored them, weaving through the trees with expertise only one of the tribes could have. I soon realized they weren’t following me, but I wasn’t surprised. Their main task was the tribe. 

I would travel around, going off the path and returning to camp in the opposite direction. It would take a bit longer, but I wouldn’t run the risk of getting shot down again. I hope Diala made it back by now. The tribe needed to be warned we were under attack if we had any hope of surviving. 

After what felt like forever running, I could smell the familiar scent of smoke clinging to leather. I was almost there. The sound of steel clashing against steel reverberated around the trees. The vints were there. I dove into a bush on the outskirts of the camp, the branches biting into my skin, but I ignored it. I leaned forward, close enough that I could see what was happening in the camp. 

It didn’t look good. Agnes and the other warriors were fighting, but the mages of the Vints were skilled and it was much too easy to catch the warriors with a spell and throw them off their feet. The Thane was at the front of our forces, yelling out a vicious battle cry as he clobbered the head of a mage with his battle-ax. The Shaman laid at the front of her tent, her darkened skin smoking. I was too far away to be sure, but it looked as if she were staring up blankly at the sky as if she were awaiting the lady of the skies to take her spirit and return her to the heavens. 

Apart of me wanted to cry, I was desperate for it even, but for some reason, I couldn’t. My eyes were dry, not even a quiver of my lip or the burning in my throat before the tears fall. My blood thrummed with energy, and my magic swirled around me like a shield, ready to lash out at an attacker, but, it was like the horror of what I was seeing wasn’t settling in. 

I shook off the thought and pushed it away for now. I jumped out of the bush, racing across the center of the camp and hopping over the pile of burning coal. The pot of that night’s soup had been knocked over, spilled onto the dirt ground where it would only be enjoyed by the wolves or the birds tonight. 

“Mountain Father, please lend me your strength.” I murmured, hoping my message could reach into the fade. I searched the fighting, landing my eyes on the closest battle. Gren, a senior warrior of the camp, was fighting against one of the few vint soldiers. He was losing. The leather of his armor was stained with blood, a deep cut showing through the ripped fabric of his shoulder. His face was battered, and his chest heaved with the pain of breathing. The Tevinter soldier had minor cuts and one larger wound on his hip but was in much better condition than Gren. 

I sent a flaming burst of fire at the Vint’s head. He never saw it coming, his attention focused entirely on Gren. The attack hit him straight on, knocking him to the ground with a scream of anguish. He clung to his face, which was burning red and orange and blue. Gren looked over his shoulder, his worn and tired face sparing a glance at me, and then he fell to his knees. I raced to his side, leaning over his tired form. 

“Hold still,” I told him, hovering my hands over the wound that was still gushing blood. Healing magic was not my specialty, nor was it viewed as particularly important to our people. Usually, only the Shaman knew true healing magic, where the others may only know the basics. We were warriors, my father had told us, not healers. We fought and we died and returned to our gods and ancestors when it was time. 

Sweat beaded and dripped down my forehead, clinging to my jaw and then hitting the edge of Gren’s armor. Gren shook slightly, his fists clenched at his sides. I focused harder, pushing all of my energy into knitting the wound, or at least stopping the bleeding. 

Gren went slack. 

I dropped my hands to my sides. A terrible ringing settled in my ears, a sure warning that my magic was wearing thin. My hands trembled with the strain of stress and for a moment, I could only stare at Gren. 

He was dead. I looked out onto the camp. Agnes laid lifeless only a few feet away, blood flowing out onto the ground from a long and deep cut to her neck. Across the field, the Thane had fallen, blood spurting from where his hand had once been. 

We were dying. 

I stood, clutching at my sides as my stomach began to twist and churn. I was sure I would vomit. Where was Diala? Where were mother and father? They couldn’t be…

It was only just as I had that thought that my eyes landed on my father. He was all the way across the camp, sitting with his head resting against one of the posts the horses had been tied to. One of his hands laid against the ground, the other lying in his lap. A pool of blood was slowly building at his side. 

I knew a corpse when I saw it. I just couldn’t believe it. 

The ringing in my ears became louder, deafening. It blocked out the sound of battle cries or the weeping of my tribesmen. It blocked out the sound of the wind whistling in the trees, of the sound of spells making contact with skin. I lost all feeling in my limbs, though I knew I had to be moving, by the way, I steadily got closer and closer to my father’s body. I knelt before him. His black and white war paint had been smeared with blood. His fingertips were charred and blackened, from too many spells gone awry. I couldn’t even figure out what had killed him. 

That was the first time I felt that burning feeling deep inside. It settled, deep between my ribs, not quite in my heart. It was so hot it was cold, frosty and burning and raging. It coiled itself so tightly, slinking between my ribs and clutching onto them so fiercely it felt like my chest was caving in.

Some called it the wrath of the gods. Some, the influence of a demon. Others called it the agony of their spirits clinging to me. 

I simply called it rage. 

“Calen! Calen!” I turned just in time for my body to be encased in my mother’s arms, and just like that, the feeling was gone. I was a mere child again, not the beginning of a long story of tragedy and vengeance. And as my mother clung to me, the ringing in my ears lessened, and a different kind of coiling settled into my body. 

“W-w-w...where is Dia?” The sentence was barely legible, but my mother understood, just as she always did. She pulled back to look at me, her warpaint streaked as well, but this time by the falling of her tears. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her. Where did you two run off too?” She asked, fingers trembling as she ran them through my hair. She was already standing, pulling me up with her. 

“Agnes said...we went to...stop them.” I couldn’t string together a coherent sentence. Mother understood anyway. “She was supposed to...warn us,” I muttered, shaking my head. If Diala hadn’t gotten to the camp, where was she? The mere thought of what could have happened set a sense of panic coursing through me. Diala was my little sister, but more then that, I was her protector. I had always been tasked with keeping her safe, everyone in the tribe knowing just how reckless and impulsive my baby sister was. 

Mother clutched to the long wooden staff by her side. She pressed a kiss to my hair, and then stood strong, once again the warrior she’d always been. 

“Find Dia. Mountain Father give me strength,” She started, staring at me expectantly. I placed my fist on my heart, bowing slightly. 

“Lady of the Skies serve me mercy.” She took off into the fighting. I ran from the battle, latching onto the closest tree and beginning to climb. The rough bark of the tree dug into my palms, stinging and itching, but the adrenaline coursing through me blocked the sense of pain. I climbed the tree just like a bear would, strength and agility, all from plenty of practice. I climbed as high as I could, latching my arms and legs around branch after branch until I could go no higher. 

I looked down onto the field. Dozens of dead bodies littered the ground, Vint and Avvarian alike. I searched the bodies for a much smaller one, to see if I had lost my sister. Hope filled my heart when I could not find her among the dead, but that still left me to wonder where she was. Diala was headstrong and reckless, but she loved our tribe as much as I did. She would not have veered from her task. 

As my eyes strayed to the Magisters, dread settled into the pit of my stomach. Held in the arms of a magister, was a small bird, desperately flapping its small wings. Diala. 

I dropped down from the tree, dropping from branch to branch until I landed on the ground. Most of the fighting was over now, the Magisters having taken a step back from the fighting, while their underlings finished the few of us still left. A few children from the tribe had been pushed over by the Magisters, sitting huddled together with frightened faces. I knew the Vints had one reason for taking captives, and for most of us, we would rather die. 

I rushed towards the group of them, and luckily my small size hid me from their notice. Or, so I thought. Before long, I found myself in the center of a paralysis glyph, the same one I had used on them earlier. 

I fought against the spell, tugging and pulling at my limbs to no avail. Unfortunately, that had always been my weakness-willpower to resist spells. I could get the mental fortitude to resist demons, but physical spells had always been my downfall. I was stuck. 

The magister holding my sister, a balding middle-aged man with a long black mustache-approached me with a mocking smile. He wore decadent robes of rich red velvet, a veridium staff with diamond accents attached to his back. He petted the top of my sister’s feathered head like she was a treasured pet. Diala squawked in protest, her eyes never leaving mine as she begged for my help. 

It killed me that I could not pull her from his tainted hands. 

“You and your sister are rather powerful little things, aren’t you? A real shame you’re Avvarian savages.” I wanted to snarl at him, but my mouth refused to move. I could only watch him with hateful eyes. “One of our scouts saw you approach our old campsite. He was tempted to follow you but decided stopping your sister from warning the camp was more important. Smart move, though very annoying. I’ve never met a child your age able to cast a glyph of that caliber.” 

I glared. 

He snickered, “Now, now, don’t look like that, you’ll be fine. You and your sister will return with us to Tevinter, where you’ll become the slaves of powerful Magisters. Perhaps they’ll allow you to hone your magic.” I glanced at Diala. She had fallen silent, her dark eyes not moving from my face. I knew that look; she wanted me to save us. 

I wished that I could. 

The magister laughed, holding his free hand out towards me. Magic welled in his palm, and I barely got a chance to watch the bolt of magic fly towards me, until I saw nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> I wanted to let you guys know, I won't be updating every day, I'm just doing this to get the story started. Starting on from chapter two, I'm planning on spacing out chapters to give me time to write ahead, so that I always have multiple chapters prepared ahead. I don't have an exact updating schedule, but it will probably range from once a week to every other week, and it may change depending on how much or how quickly I'm writing chapters.


	3. Chapter two: Sigfrost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the guard standing in front of the door had a split second to look shocked before he turned into a vintsicle. 
> 
> Dia and I high-fived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy! :)

I suppose I should be grateful he knocked me out. Watching the rest of my tribe die was not something I wanted to see. Still, it made escape that much more difficult. When I woke, everything was dark. I could hear the faint sound of metal clinking against metal, and the soft footsteps against wood, but I could not make out a single thing in the dark. 

It didn’t take long for the memories of what had happened to replay in my head. For a single second, I panicked. My people, my parents, my tribe…

Dead. All dead. I had to accept it. We were no more. Except...the Vints were rounding up the children, probably to sell as slaves. Is that what I was doing here now? Heading to Tevinter, to become a slave? 

Despite my lack of sight, I tried to take in my condition and surroundings. I was sitting on a hard wooden floor that creaks every few seconds. When I paid attention, I could easily tell we were swaying side to side. We must be on a boat. The thought made me nauseous; I had never been on the water before. Moving my arms, I found my hands bound together by what I assumed to be metal cuffs. They clanged together as I adjusted, and I could pull my hands apart a mere inch before they pressed harshly into the skin of my wrists. My ankles were much the same. 

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could make out vague shadowy shapes. The room was small, about six feet wide and long. There was a shelf on the far end of the room, though I couldn’t make out any of the items placed upon it, or if there were any. There was the shape of a chair near the door, with an end table beside it, and what looked like a candelabra. I was sorely tempted to light it, but decided against it; if one of them came in here, they would know I could still perform magic, and would perhaps knock me out again, or worse, collar me. I shivered at the thought. I knew their existed collars that were designed to block the magic of mages. I had no doubt in my mind that the Vints had acquired some. 

Without much else to do, I could only sit there in the dark. My shoulders and neck protested, and I tried adjusting my position to alleviate some of the tension. I also desperately needed to pee, but I wasn’t about to relieve myself where I was at. I still had my pride, if nothing else. 

No. I still had Diala too. They had kept her alive, and I knew she had to be here somewhere. I hadn’t seen her in the fade while I slept, but then again, I wouldn’t have. Diala wasn’t as in touch with the magic of the fade as I was. She preferred physical manifestation of magic, like elemental magic.

I liked spirits and manipulating the environment of the fade while I slept.

Diala just really liked setting things on fire. 

I had to find her. We would die before we became the slaves of the Vints, but if we died, we died together. 

I must’ve sat like that for hours, planning to escape to find Diala, and the other children too, if I could. I imagine they had separated Diala and me from the others because of our magic. She was probably in a room similar to this one, in the dark, all alone. Diala was frightened by darkness. She was probably terrified right now. 

Just when I thought I could hold my bladder no longer, the door to the room creaked open. Light shined in, and I blinked quickly in response. I was surprised to see it was one of the Magister’s coming to visit me, rather than a lowly soldier. In fact, it was the one who had spoken to me at the Camp. 

I glared at him. 

“Ah, awake I see. Very good. I imagine you’re hungry and need to relieve yourself.” He spoke cheerfully like this situation was all good and happy. It made me want to claw his eyes out. He approached me, fishing a tarnished key from his robes and putting it into the lock of my ankle cuffs. The metal released my legs with a loud clunk, hitting the wooden floor loudly. The Magister grabbed the top of my arm, hoisting me to my feet. I swayed the gentle rocking of the boat similar to how it felt getting off of a horse after a long time of riding. 

He led me from the room by the arm, tugging me along down lit hallways. While he did so, I tried to absorb my surroundings, discovering as much about them as possible in hopes of finding something to help us escape. A shield hung on the wall as decoration; a heavy bookshelf; A pair of worn leather boots sitting outside a door. All could be useful in their own way. 

“There’s the bathroom. You’ve got two minutes.” He warned, placing his hand on my back and giving me a shove through the door. I hardly paid any mind to the tiny bathroom, taking as little time as possible to relieve myself, and then walking out. He grabbed hold of my arm again, and returned down the same hallway, putting me back into the same dark room, and chaining my feet back up. 

“A slave will be by soon with some food. Why don’t we chat until then, hm?” He asked. He grabbed the chair, dragging it across the floor until it was planted in front of me. He shot a spark of fire at the candelabra, lighting the room up. He took a seat, folding his hands up in his lap, and giving me a small, condescending smile. “Now, why don’t we start with some simple questions? What’s your name?” He asked. 

I didn’t respond. 

“Your age?” He continued. 

I kept my lips pursed closed. He leaned back in his chair, letting loose a sigh. 

“Yes, your sister refused to speak too, though I imagined you would be more reasonable. How unfortunate. Allow me to inform you of your circumstances; You, your sister, and the rest of the children from the SilverSteam tribe are to be sold in Tevinter as slaves. However, depending on your responses today, you and your sister could be spared this fate. You’re both incredibly talented with magic for one’s so young.” He said pleasantly. 

I was quiet for a moment longer. Should I speak? Tell him the answer to his menial questions to protect Diala? 

“Where is my sister?” I asked quietly. His eyes lit up with pleasure, his lips turning into a smirk. 

“Safe,” He replied. “As are the other children. We have no intention of importing damaged goods. Perhaps if you behave I will allow you to see her.” I had to stop myself from glaring. 

“My name is Calendula. I am twelve years old.” I answered, none too pleasantly. I had no interest in holding a conversation with this monster, but I would, for Diala’s sake. 

“You and your sister could shapeshift, a rare power, not even any magisters know. We all thought it was a lost art. Tell me, how did you learn this skill?” He asked. I chewed my lip nervously. Mother had always mentioned not to let outsiders know of our unique ability. Shapeshifting was denied by the Chantry, the main religion of Ferelden, and it was frightening to others. Those who it did not frighten, would wish to use this skill for their own gain. 

“I did it one day by accident. I just thought about what it was like to be a bear, and I transformed. My sister fell from a tree and turned into a bird before she could hit the ground. It was an art previously thought lost by our people.” I answered. I stared into his dark eyes, watching his greedy face soak in the information with a hint of disappointment. “The rest of my tribe. Did you kill them?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know to be honest. I knew my father was dead, but my mother? I had not seen her corpse. A part of me wished deep inside that she was alive, but I dared not hope for it. 

“None were spared beyond the children. The adults of your...tribes are usually too volatile.” 

You don’t know volatile just yet, Magister. Undo these chains, you’ll get to meet your Dragon gods early.

“Hakkon guide our courage and lead us not to a fate worse than death. For the soul is born free, and the Lady of the Skies guides us into honorable death, and the Mountain Father punishes the betrayers of life and sees them suffer in death for their crimes,” His eyes lit up with amusement. 

“Yes, a popular saying amongst your people. Yet, here you are without courage, wrapped in chains. I doubt your lady of the skies finds honor in that. So tell me, child, will you die fighting?” 

“If need be.” I did not blink or look away. I met his gaze straight on, eyes narrowed and glaring. 

The Magister opened his mouth to respond, but there was a knock at the door interrupting him. An elven woman peered through the door, soot covering her cheeks. Her lip quivered, her eyes downcast. 

“Her food, Master.” She said meekly. The Magister rolled his eyes, curling his finger at her in response. The Elf walked in, carrying a tarnished silver tray, a plate of what looked like a roll of bread and a slice of meat. There was a jug and a cup on the tray as well. She scurried across the room, leaning down to place the tray in front of me. 

“Get out now, you foolish girl!” He barked, startling the elven woman. She jumped, eyes widening, and she turned and ran from the room. I watched her leave, as she slammed the door behind her. I turned back to the Magister. 

I did not take my eyes off of him as I grabbed the roll and began to eat. He seemed content to let me eat, smirking smugly back at me. It made my skin crawl, his very eyes on me. It made my magic tingle at my fingertips, daring to burn him to a crisp. 

When I finished the meager amount of food, I grabbed the jug of water, ignoring the cup and drinking from there. I had no interest in showing manners around this beast. When the jug was empty, I set it down and turned my attention back on him. 

“I would like to see my sister.” 

“Hmm. We’ll see. For now, you’ll stay here.” He stood from his seat, turning towards the door and left after extinguishing the light of the Candelabra. I was left in the dark again. I stared at the door in the darkness, glaring at it hatefully. 

I wasn’t going to sit here any longer. I called out to the magic in my veins. It was faint, resistant. It was reluctant to respond. I frowned, calling again upon my magic. Nothing but a faint spark fizzling out quickly. What- My eyes zeroed in on the tray of food. My cheeks heated in anger and shame. They’d drugged me. I had heard of a concoction given to mages that could temporarily make them incapable of using magic. My magic certainly didn’t seem to want to cooperate with me. I couldn’t think of any other reason my magic would be so resistant now besides that.

That made this difficult. I huffed in annoyance and yanked at my cuffs. They refused to budge, digging into the sensitive skin of my wrists and making me wince in pain. I spent what had to be a solid hour pulling and tugging at the cuffs until my wrists were raw and bloody. I did briefly consider gnawing my own hand off but quickly discarded that thought. It would be hard to escape when I was bleeding to death. 

I was just going to have to wait until the elixir wore off if I wanted to have any chance of escape. 

I waited for hours. A Vint servant came by to offer me more food, and I pretended to eat it. The second they had left the room, I spat the food back out on the floor. I didn’t know how long I had to wait for the elixir to wear off, but I hoped it was soon. I needed to find Diala. 

Several hours after even that, I was again approached by a servant, who took me to the bathroom. The second the door to the bathroom had been shut behind me, I focused on my magic. It was weak, but it was there. 

I walked back out of the bathroom and allowed the servant to lead me back to my room. Once she was gone, I got to work. My magic was weak, but I could still conjure up ice, using the ice to envelop the cuffs. I’d read about this in a book once-a man who was handcuffed using ice magic to break them off. I didn’t quite understand the exact mechanics of it, but I understood enough to hopefully get them off. It was a long and drawn-out process, and I feared every second someone would walk in. 

And, then it happened. The door opened. I froze in place, hugging the cuffs close to me in hopes whoever entered wouldn’t notice the frost lining the metal. Light shined into the dark room, and I prepared myself to fight whoever entered, should they notice the uneaten food shoved on the other side of the room or the frozen cuffs. Instead, a short figure entered the room, and when I noticed who it was, I gasped. 

“Diala?” I asked, mouth agape in shock. My tiny, spitfire little sister quickly closed the door behind her, rushing across the room to my side. 

“Calen! I was so scared I wouldn’t find you!” Diala’s eyes were puffy and red from crying, and I wished I could’ve hugged her. She pulled my cuffs into her hands, looking them over. 

“It’s alright, we’re together now. How did you escape?” I asked quickly. She hovered her hands over the cuffs, and together we combined our power to ice the metal over completely. When it was done, Diala focused a powerful barrage of magic centered directly on my cuffs. 

The pieces of metal broke in half, clinking to the ground at my feet. She started on my ankle cuffs next. “How didn’t you escape earlier?” She scoffed. 

I frowned, feeling ashamed once more. “They drugged me. I can barely feel my magic as it is.” I defended myself. Diala shrugged in response, icing over the cuffs and then once again shooting more power at the frozen metal. They fell off. 

“Hmm, well I think they tried to drug me. I couldn’t feel my magic as strongly at first.” 

“Maybe they gave you a lower dose because you’re smaller.” I murmured, standing and stretching out my limbs. It was a little disheartening that my baby sister was the one saving me, but I wouldn’t complain. I was out of those cuffs, and we were free. We could escape now, together. 

“Probably. Now, do you have any idea about how to get around this ship?” She asked. I leaned down to touch my toes, hearing a few bones in my back pop. 

“No, not really. Our best bet is subtlety, little sister. If we can get to the open air, we can transform and fly off until we find land.” I explained, grabbing hold of Diala’s hand and starting towards the door. She wouldn’t budge. 

She bit her lip, looking at me nervously, “What about the others, Callie? We can’t leave them.” I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave the others either. We’d grown up with them, helped take care of them. I bet I was the oldest of us left now, and it was my duty to save them. 

But...Diala. Saving the others put Diala at risk. Could I risk my little sister in the hopes of saving the rest of them? Diala, above everyone else, was my first and most important responsibility. 

“You are my responsibility,” I responded quietly. Tears started to well in Dia’s eyes. 

“They’re your responsibility too! They’re our tribe, Calen! We have to at least try!” Despite my better judgment, Diala’s pleading eyes won me over. I sighed. 

“Fine, but any sign of trouble and you bolt, Dia. No questions, no objections. Do you understand?” She nodded eagerly. The two of us moved slowly through the halls, being as quiet as possible. It wasn’t hard; we’d learned how to silence our footsteps when out hunting for food. We managed to turn several corners, even go down a small flight of stairs without seeing anyone. 

It’s when we got to the bottom of the stairs that we had a problem. There was a fairly long but narrow hallway, extending as a crossroads before us. There were three doors opposite us, the one furthest to the left had a soldier stationed in front of it. 

What could be so important that it had a soldier in front of the door? I mean, they seemed very interested in Dia and myself, and they’d left us alone in dark rooms, with no one guarding the door as far as I had seen. 

It was possible that our fellow tribesmen were there. More likely, there was something very, very valuable in that room. Dia and I shared a look; even if the other kids aren’t in there, we were going in-if only to take away something valuable from the vints. The guard hadn’t spotted us yet, and so I motioned to Dia. Fire flared in her palm-and I had to cover her hand with my own before she threw the fire. She squinted her eyes at me, and I motioned towards the wooden walls, floors, and ceiling. Dia’s mouth made an ‘O’ shape. 

This time when she shot a bolt of power from her hand, it didn’t threaten to light the entire boat on fire. 

Instead, the guard standing in front of the door had a split second to look shocked before he turned into a vintsicle. 

Dia and I high-fived. 

We raced down the hall, pushing past the frozen vint and pushing at the door; it was locked. Again, I looked at Dia. She sent me an annoyed glance, huffing as she shot more ice at the door, freezing the lock. I motioned for her to step back and took a step myself, and then kicked the door. It took a few loud, annoying attempts, but the door budged, the lock breaking and the door squealing open. 

“I really hope no one heard that,” I muttered, pressing on into the room. It was dark, but unlike my holding cell, it had a window letting light stream in. I could see the rush of the water, and occasionally feel the spray of seawater on my face. 

The room was rectangular and had several crates all placed around the room. Dia immediately began to dig through the boxes, but I focused on scanning them first, looking for any signs of which box may hold the most valuable item on this boat. 

My eyes landed on a locked chest, obscured partially by a couple of crates. That had to be it. I kneeled down before the chest, pulling the lock into my hands to look it over; I was no rogue, but I could certainly tell that the lock was complicated, perhaps even spelled. 

Well fine then, I’ll break the box. I turned the surprisingly light chest onto its side and used the little magical energy I had to zap it with a thin, finely placed lightning blast. It took several long minutes and very strong concentration, but soon the thing was smoking from the attacks, one side of the chest half blown off in chunks of wood. I looked inside the chest, only to be annoyed at the sight of another, smaller box. 

When I pulled it out, it didn’t have a lock on it though, which made this much easier. I opened the small square box, my jaw dropping at what I saw inside. 

“Dia, come look at this,” I breathed. It was an amulet, a large, swirling green gemstone the size of a longsword pommel. The gem glowed faintly. It was attached to a thin, gold chain. I turned the pendant over, my breath catching in my throat; it was the symbol for Sigfrost, the god of wisdom, and the god who blessed me on my birth. 

“Is that…?” Dia trailed off, standing beside me with her eyes glued to the symbol. I nodded, unable to speak. Is this the real reason the Vints had been searching around Avvarian settlements? Were they looking for this? I could feel the magic coming off of it, just holding it in my hands. 

Dia reached out, touching the symbol. The touch sent a spark of lightning through me, and Dia and I both jumped up. We shared a look. “It’s-”

“Very, very dangerous.” I jumped and whirled around, shoving the amulet behind my back. The magister from before faced me, a pleasant smile on his face. I glared at him angrily. 

“This holds the power of Sigfrost, our people’s god. What do you think you are doing with it?” I hissed. The magister took a step towards us, and Diala jumped to her feet, magic gathering around her. 

“It’s a powerful tool. We’re not quite sure what it can do yet, but there are legends. Some say the wearer gains the wisdom of Sigfrost, or the ability to speak with him when they sleep. Others have even garnered perhaps it gives one the ability to command bears, as silly as it sounds. I think it is much more powerful than that.” 

“It doesn’t matter what you think. It doesn’t belong to you.” I said coldly, holding the amulet tighter. The magister was silent for a moment, cocking his head to the side as he looked me over. 

“Then, does it belong to you?” He asked, tone mocking. Before I could speak, Diala beat me to it. 

“It does!” She yelled, tiny fists clenched at her sides. “Sigfrost blessed Callie on the day of her birth! Three bears wandered into camp, they wandered right in the tent, where she was resting! They didn’t hurt anyone either, they just walked right out of camp after that! If that amulet belongs to anyone, it belongs to her!” She shouted. 

“Dia!” I hissed, but the damage was done. The magister’s eyes had widened for a split second at Diala’s tale and then narrowed, his smile settling into a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes sparkled when he looked at me as if he had just been awarded some pleasant surprise. 

“Interesting. Tell me then, child, what does the amulet do? Surely you would know?” He asked calmly. I glanced at him, and then at Diala. 

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. He took another step forward. Diala put up her fists as if she were ready to fight him in hand to hand combat if that’s what it took. 

“How about this; you find out what the amulet does, and I’ll let you and your sister go. You can return home or go live in the free cities, whatever pleases you. I’ll even give you a few sovereigns for the road.” Diala perked up at his words. 

“What about the others? Would you let them go?” She asked hopefully. The magister eyed her. 

“No. The deal is for you and your sister only.” 

Diala opened her mouth to object. I put my hand over her mouth to silence her. “Deal. You set my sister and me free, and I tell you what the amulet does.” I promised, pulling the amulet from behind my back and holding it in front of me. 

“Calen, the others!” Diala cried out. I ignored her. 

“I’ll have to go into the fade, ask him myself,” Ignoring the fact that I’ve never actually met with Sigfrost. Not a tidbit he needs to know. “My sister will stay right beside me the entire time, and if you do anything to her or me, lock us up again, or separate us, I won’t tell you what it does. Ever.” 

He nodded, “Very well. I’ll remain at the door. Hurry up.” He took a few steps back until he was standing in the doorway. I didn’t trust him for a second but didn’t have many options. Diala and I were strong, but we weren’t capable of facing a fully trained Tevinter Magister. He could probably use blood magic and other terrifying forms of magic to hurt or kill us. Forms of magic I probably hadn’t even heard of before, even with all of the reading I did. 

Shaking, I lowered myself to the floor. The wooden floor wasn’t the most comfortable of places to fall asleep, but it is what my option was. Diala kneeled down beside me, lip wobbling. Her eyes were welling with tears. 

“Don’t cry, Dia. This is our only chance.” I whispered to her. She shook her head. 

“We’re no better than them if we leave them behind.” She cried, wiping at her face. I shook my head. 

“I don’t need to be better than them. I just need to keep you safe.” I told her, brushing some of her hair back behind her ear, and then laying my head back against the wood. “Now, hit me with some sleeping magic?” I asked. Still crying, she nodded her head. I felt her magic build, and then suddenly, I was in the fade. 

The fade was a place I was very familiar with. I was even more at home in the fade than I was in camp, considering we moved around so often. I’d explored so many different places in the fade, going so deep once that I slept for two days. I’d met all different kinds of spirits and demons, but never gods. 

How was I supposed to find Sigfrost? I was blessed by him at birth, but there had never been another sign of him in my life. I had hoped the day Diala was born and blessed, perhaps he would also show himself to me, but he hadn’t. I knew he had his reasons, but I’d always been curious as to why he blessed me. What purpose did I serve, especially to a god such as himself?

“Who are you looking for, youngling?” I jumped, whirling around. I relaxed instantly, letting out a shaky breath. 

“It’s just you, Valor. You frightened me.” I breathed out in relief, clutching my hand over my heart. Valor, in his suit of armor that resembled those Chantry knights, and his glowing yellow eyes that shone through his helmet. My friend. He regarded me closely, a hand settled over his sword like it always was, ready for a fight. 

“You don’t scare easily, my friend. What has troubled you so?” He asked. My lip wobbled with the intent to cry. Everything that had happened-the death of my parents, the destruction of my tribe, being held hostage, it all just came to the surface in my mind. 

I pushed back my tears, “Diala and I have been captured by Tevinter magisters. We’re on a ship right now heading to Tevinter, but I found an amulet-a magical artifact that has Sigfrost’s symbol on the back of it. The Magister who captured us offered to let us go, but only if I could tell him what the amulet does. Do you...do you know where I could find Sigfrost? I know he is seen sometimes by mages in the fade.” 

Valor hesitated, before speaking, “Sigfrost is...dangerous. And he only appears to those who he wants to appear to. I can take you to a spot where he spends a lot of his time, but I cannot make him appear.” 

I nodded, “I’ll take that risk.” 

Valor leads me through several pathways in the fade, most without anyone spirits or demons at all, not even wisps. That was unusual unless the territory was claimed by a higher demon. I remember once stumbling into the domain of a high desire demon. 

Lady was crazy, and she smelt of campfire smoke and the dirt after it rained. I barely made it out of there without being possessed or killed. Luckily, my mother woke me before she could dig her claws into me. Never went back that way again, though. 

Valor stopped in front of a small hill, pointing one finger up at the top. “There. Many spirits and demons ignore this place because it is his favorite place to sleep.” 

Sleep? Why did a god need to sleep...in the fade? Strange. 

“Thank you, Valor. As always, I appreciate your friendship.” I said sincerely. Valor bowed, placing his fist over his heart. Then, he disappeared. I turned my sights on the hill. It wasn’t a tall or steep hill, but I still couldn’t see the top of it. With a deep breath, I trekked up the hill. 

When I made it to the top, the hill was devoid of anyone else. The place was barren. 

“Sigfrost? I need to speak with you, urgently.” I called out, feeling a bit foolish speaking to the air. Then, before my very eyes, a bereskarn approached, using its large paws to make its way up the hill.

“Urgently?” The bear asked, scoffing. “Never do anything with urgency, my dear.” Just as I considered turning and fleeing from the large and intimidating bear coming straight for me, he plopped down in the center of the clearing, resting his large, scarred head upon his massive front paws. He looked up at me expectantly. 

“Are...are you Sigfrost?” I asked incredulously. The bear tilted his head to the side curiously. 

“It’s rare for a human to come into the fade and know who I am, let alone seek me out. Who are you?” He asked. His words seemed to drive a knife into my stomach, and I took a step back. 

“You...don’t know who I am? But, you blessed me on the day of my birth!” I called out. He lifted his head, blinking his milky white eyes at me as if he were staring into my very soul.

“Ah, I remember now. It’s so hard to keep up with you mortals, always changing form so often.” 

“So, you did bless me?” I asked, confusion taking over my voice. I knew Sigfrost would probably speak in riddles, or be more difficult to understand, but now I was just confused beyond any clarity. 

“No, I did not ‘bless’ you, child. I recognized you.” 

I stared at him, “Okay. What does that mean?” Sigfrost snorted, smacking his jaws noisily. 

“It had been centuries since a soul of such wisdom and power came into the world. I sensed you the second you were born. You were already calling to the fade, desperate to clutch at it with your tiny little human hands. Your sister was quite the same, though I was too tired to recognize her as well.” 

I frowned, “So when a human is born, you can sense when they are strong or wise? How does that work?” 

“Not always, only the particularly strong souls like yours can be felt all the way into the fade when they are born. The second I sensed your soul I knew you’d be a curious one. What did they end up naming you?”

“Calendula,” I said softly. 

“Interesting.” He murmured, settling his head back onto his paws and closing his eyes. I stood there for a moment, shuffling my feet nervously. Whatever I may have expected, this was certainly not something that had ever crossed my mind. He almost looked and sounded like...a demon.

“Sigfrost…” I started nervously. He blinked open one eye. “Why do I get the sense you’re a demon?” I asked. He was silent for a moment, and then he began to chuckle lowly. 

“Because I am a demon, my dear.” I blinked rapidly at his response. He was a demon? But, that’s not possible. He’s a god to my people, we’ve worshipped him for thousands of years! “I can sense your confusion,” He continued, peering up at me boredly. “Ask what you want to ask and let’s be done with it.” 

“You can’t be a demon...you’re a god, aren’t you?” I wondered. 

“Hm? Who’s to say I’m not both? Are you not a daughter to your parents and sister to your sibling? We can be many things for many different people. Perhaps one day you will be known as a demon as well.” I took a step back. 

“But-” 

“Is this really what you wanted to speak to me about?” I clamped my mouth shut. He was right, Diala was waiting for me. I didn’t have time for silly questions. 

“There’s this amulet, back in my world. It has your sigil on the back of it. The stone in it is magic. My sister and I, we’ve been captured by Tevinter slave traders. One of them has promised to let us go if I can tell them what the amulet does.” Sigfrost was so quiet, I almost thought he’d fallen asleep. 

Sigfrost grumbled, “I really should just save myself the trouble and eat you. It may be easier for everyone in the long run.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

“Very well. The amulet has no power, not anymore.” 

“But, how? I felt its magic not long ago!” I objected, taking a step forward towards the bear. Sigfrost lifted his head, baring his terrifyingly sharp teeth, and I returned to my original place. Best not to piss off a demon-god-thing. 

“Yes, you and your sister absorbed the magic when you touched it. It rests inside you now.” He groaned. 

“Inside of us? What...what will it do?” 

“Well, I suppose you’ll find out someday.” Just as he spoke, the fade around me began to shift and melt, a clear sign I was beginning to wake up against my will. 

“How do I save us, then? How do I protect my sister?” I pleaded, reaching out a hand towards the bear, and then dropping my hand abruptly. 

Sigfrost snorted, “Why are you asking me? Just do what you’ve always done.” he finished, resting his large head under his paw, seeming intent to block me out. Anger coursed through me.

“You’re a real help. Why do we worship you again?” I snapped, the words escaping before I could filter myself. For a split second, I feared for my life. Then, Sigfrost let loose a rumbling laugh, peeking up at me with a mirthful gaze. I relaxed, though I took a further step back just in case. 

“There’s that spirit.” He sighed. I waited for him to speak further, but when he didn’t say anything else, I huffed in annoyance. I turned to leave when his voice rang out around me. “I do pity you. A victim of terrible circumstances. I’m afraid your journey will only get worse from here.”

I eyed him carefully, “You know the future?” I asked calmly. 

“Hardly. We ‘spirits’ are aware of things far before you mortals are. If only you weren’t so afraid of us, you could stop many tragedies from befalling you.” He grumbled, and I frowned. 

“I’m not afraid,” I denied, crossing my arms. 

“No? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be. Whatever. Leave me alone now. I’m tired,” 

Apart of me wanted to argue with him, demand that he help me save Diala and I. He was our ‘God’ and yet, he was refusing to help us after I had come all this way to plead for his help. What sort of god was that? What kind of God let two of his young and devout followers be taken as slaves? 

A God that was also a demon, I suppose. How cruel that was.

I wandered down the hill and then focused my mind on waking up. Soon the fade was swirling all around me and when I opened my eyes, I was back in the dark room of the ship. Except, Diala was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter questions: 
> 
> 1\. How do you feel about Calen's response to the death of her entire tribe? Do you think she should've been more responsive? 
> 
> Follow my Tumblr: https: darkxkirlia.tumblr.com  
> PS. I post a lot of pictures of my cats, rant about fictional characters, and plan to start uploading playlists and aesthetic boards of characters, including Calen!


	4. Chapter three: kithshok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos reigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! A few notes: 
> 
> 1\. This chapter is pretty short in my opinion, and I'm also not the biggest fan of it. It's a transitory chapter that has a lot going on in it. I also struggle with storytelling in this one. I'm trying to keep to this being a look back on the past for Calen, but also being in the moment and describing the scenes, and I just didn't really manage it super well in this chapter. I did a little fixing, but not to where I would like it to be. If you have any tips on fixing the storytelling, I would love some feedback! Also, if there are places in particular where you feel like the storytelling is weird, I would love for you guys to point those out too. 
> 
> 2\. I'm fairly certain there are some continuity errors in this chapter as well, such as wording ('elven' vs. 'elvhen') and the like. I tried to catch them, but I'm certain I missed some.

For five whole minutes, I was filled with nothing but terror. Diala was all I had left in the world. Our parents were dead, but we would be okay if we were together. I didn’t know what I would do if she was gone. Who I would be, what I would do with myself? I could only be strong if I had Diala there to protect. What would strength serve, if she was...dead?

I raced down the halls as fast as my feet would move. I saw no one as I moved, not a vint or Diala or the magister from before. It struck me as odd until I made it to the deck of the ship. 

Chaos reigned. 

Next to the ship, we stood on was a much larger, more imposing ship. Across the deck of the ship, spells were cast and thrown in all directions, and I narrowly avoided a blast of ice by hitting the floor. 

There were these large, gray-skinned beings with horns moving across the ship, swinging swords and hammers and axes whilst Magisters and Vint mages threw spells at them. These beings-I recognized-were Qunari. I had never seen one before in person, but I had read about them. They were feared by my people. They spoke a foreign language, believed in a strange religion, and they despised mages. The books I’d read all said the same thing; they treated their mages as slaves, refusing to let them speak or see or hone their magic for anything besides chaos.

An ax was swung overhead in my general direction, and I dropped to the deck again to avoid being hit. Parts of the ship burned, the taste of smoke sitting heavily in my lungs. It was loud, screams and battle cries, and people dying, and I had to fight the urge to cover my ears. It sounded too much like the massacre of my tribe. 

I shook my head, climbing to my feet and looking around wildly for Diala. I knew if she wasn’t below deck with me, then she had to come up here. She wouldn’t have left me alone in such a vulnerable state if it wasn’t important. 

“Dia!” I called, skirting around a fallen qunari body, and rushing across the deck. “Dia!” I yelled again, and then avoided a battle between a qunari soldier and a magister using blood magic. 

“Calen!” My ears perked up at the sound of Dia calling my name. I turned in every direction, calling her name again, searching the fighting for her mess of hair. A falcon swooped down from above, my sister’s small form replacing it as she hit the ground. I gasped and then sighed in relief, wrapping my arms around her and giving a dry sob. 

“Dia, I was worried!” I cried out, holding her close. Diala pulled away, eyes wide, hair messier than usual. 

“The others are still below deck! We have to save them!” She pleaded, her small hands gripping my forearms tightly. I bit my lip, shaking my head. 

“We can’t, we have to go!” I started to tug on her arm, leading her towards the front of the deck. She dug her heels in, refusing to move. 

“We can’t leave them!” She yelled stubbornly, pulling her arm out of my grip. She glared at me, and then turned and took off. I called after her, moving to run after her, only to be blocked by a magister tumbling down in front of me. 

“Dia!” I screamed, trying to move around him, only for his hand to grip my ankle. I shrieked, kicking down at him and stumbling backward to get away. The magister gasped, lips leaking blood. He watched me with wide eyes, silently pleading for my help. I pursed my lips, glaring down at him. I lit a fireball in my hand and threw it at him. He didn’t make a sound, his lips moving to make a silent scream.

I moved around him, heading back towards the stairs below deck in search of Dia. I would’ve reached the stairwell, had another fight not decided to take place in front of me. A large qunari man, at least four times my size, landed with a thump before me. Across from him stood two magisters and a soldier with a bloodied sword. They had teamed up against him, and it made sense considering the man’s size. 

I looked down at the qunari closely; his red battle paint had been smeared by his blood and sweat. He had several open wounds, and a rather nasty stab wound in his shoulder. Despite this, he still clutched his maul. He was trying to stand back up to his feet, but I knew without even looking he wouldn’t make it. He was large and formidable, but they outnumbered him, and magic gave them an advantage. 

I cast a barrier just as a magister flung his killing spell, a master lightning spell that surely would’ve finished the qunari off. The spell cast off from the barrier uselessly. I capitalized on their confusion, calling on my connection to the fade and sending a blast of energy at them, catching the three of them and sending them flying over the edge of the boat. I turned to the qunari, ready to try my hand at healing him, only to find him on his feet. 

He watched me with a fathomless expression, his eyes dark and terrifying. Suddenly I was afraid I’d taken the wrong side. But then he nodded his thanks at me and took off back into the battle. 

…

It was a massacre after that, though this time the vints were on the receiving end. I avoided the rest of the battle, heading below deck to find Diala. I searched every room until I found her. She was far below deck, huddled with the other kids from our tribe. She was at the front of the group, her arms wrapped around them protectively. I would’ve smiled if I hadn’t been so angry she’d runoff. 

Dia was always trying to protect people. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. She was meant to be a hero. She was meant to save the world. She didn’t just have the power to do it, she had the heart. I’d always been too selfish, always more inclined to protect only the people that I cared about, and leave everyone else to fend for themselves. It had always only seemed logical; I couldn’t save everyone, I would tell myself. And if it came down to who lived and who died, I would sacrifice thousands of people, just to save one person I loved. Even knowing this now, I probably still would. If it meant protecting my family, I would kill whoever I had to; I would become a monster, just so they survive. 

I huddled with Dia and the other kids, preparing us for whoever came down those stairs and found us. I hoped it was the magisters; I hated magisters, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized Tevinter was our safer bet. At least Tevinter didn’t fear magic. If the Qunari didn’t kill us, they’d do far worse to us than Tevinter. I didn’t want to be one of their slave mages, blind and voiceless for the rest of my life. It was not a life I wanted for Dia either. 

So when Qunari warriors opened the door an hour later, disappointment and panic welled up inside of me. I kept calm though, at least outwardly. I held Dia’s hand and commanded her not to speak under my breath. They would kill us, I was sure of it, and I had wasted my mana on protecting one of them when I should’ve just let him die. 

The qunari were silent as they led us and the rest of the children from the boat, and onto their ship. Right away, Dia and I were recognized as mages, probably from spotting us on the deck and separated from the other children. Surprisingly, we weren’t put in chains right away. They spoke a few to each other in their strange foreign language and then locked us in a spare room together. We huddled together in fear while we waited to discover our fates. 

I thought for sure we were goners. I prayed to all of the gods, even Sigfrost. I prayed to that Andraste lady and her maker husband, I prayed to the old gods and the elven gods, even though I didn’t know their names. I prayed to whatever the Qunari had, though I didn’t even know if they had a god. I begged them to save Diala; I promised them my life in exchange for Dia’s, so long as they would protect her. 

The qunari I saved on the battlefield was the one to walk in. It made me relax slightly, knowing someone I had saved was to be our jailer. I imagined Qunari were not known for their kindness or compassion, but even they had to have a soft spot for people who saved their lives. 

“I am kithshok.” He said gruffly, lowly. It sent a shiver down my spine. Even if I had saved him, he was terrifying, and I knew for sure that he could kill me with one swing of his fist. “Tell me your story.” He ordered. I looked at Dia, and then I began to speak. I had warned Dia to say nothing, and so I spoke in her place, explaining that we had been of the Avvar, and the Tevinter magisters had destroyed our tribe and taken us hostage to sell as slaves. I knew it was useless to deny it, and so I admitted to us being mages, and that we had escaped because of this. I told him we had been trying to flee when the Qunari boarded. 

He seemed to absorb the information because he remained silent for quite some time. It made me fidget, feel even more nervous than before. Finally, he spoke to us again, explaining our options; there was really only one. We would become Saarebas for the Qunari, or we would die. Kathaban explained that they had originally intended to kill us, but that he saw promise in me when I fought for him. He told me if we accepted, his life debt to me would be repaid. 

I didn’t want to be saarebas. I didn’t want Diala to be saarebas. I didn’t want us to die either. So, I accepted, and the process of becoming saarebas began. Immediately we were blinded, our hands cuffed, bars put over our mouths to stop us from speaking. The ride on the dreadnaught to par vollen took nearly a week, and the Qunari didn’t waste any time beginning to assimilate us to the Qun. A Tamassran came into our shared room, and began teaching us Qunlat. We were assigned temporary Arvaarad almost immediately. 

Arriving on Par Vollen, we were sequestered away. Our final moments together were the excruciating hour we spent getting our lips sewed shut. We held each other's hands, squeezing and screaming when the pain grew too much. Then they separated us. I could still sense Dia I realized after some time. We could sense each other. We’d always had a strong bond, but it was only after the trauma we’d been through that our bond became something substantial, a real magical force that tied us together. 

During our days, we were taught the way of the Qunari. When we weren’t being trained by our arvaarad’s, or forced to do tasks for the Qun, we were taught and cared for by Tamassran, the women of the Qunari. The Tamassran was the only pro to living as a Saarebas. They feared us, but they were also kind. The Tamassran who cared for me called me, ‘Asala’ because even though I could not speak or see, she told me she could tell I had a strong soul. She taught me Qunlat, she read to me and told me stories. She helped me bathe and dress, she always brushed and put my hair up. Whenever the sewing around my lip would chafe, or burn, or split, she would apply a salve to them, cooing soft and kind words in my ear. Sometimes, when she found a bruise or a cut, she would scold my arvaarad, and warn him to be kinder to me. 

Our nights, Dia and I spent in the fade. We found each other easily, and soon set up a sanctuary where we met each night. We molded the fade so that it appeared as if we were back in our tribe again, in the mountains by the lakes or sea. Sometimes, we discussed escaping or running away, but most times we pretended our waking circumstances weren’t so terrible. We pretended we were home with our parents and our tribe, playing games and training and exploring. Spirits still approached me, and sometimes Dia too, but they were less comfortable with us than before. I knew it was because of our pain, our misery, our fear. They didn’t want to become demons, and we didn’t blame them. 

Demons were drawn to us too, not that that was unexpected. For the most part, we refused them entrance into our sanctuary and ignored them all-together. A particularly powerful desire demon managed to break through once and tried to befriend us. It tried to act friendly, to soothe us. 

Diala got tired of its manipulations and promptly turned it to scattered particles across the fade.

That's how we kept each other sane. The qun could control us during the waking hours, but they had no say what we did at night. 

Then things got worse. At fifteen, after three years of living under the Qun’s laws, it was decided that Dia and I no longer needed a Tamassran to look after us. We both cried, Diala freely and in public, and me in my room late at night. Things got even worse when they started to give us dream blocking elixirs, and Diala and I could no longer see each other in the fade. We could feel each other though, our magic. We could feel it grow restless, resistant to their control. Dia was even worse than me; she was younger, more volatile, free-spirited. I knew they punished her whenever she acted out. I could feel it, like a searing gut-punch into our bond. 

Every time I felt the abuse she suffered, I grew angrier and angrier. I spent my nights mostly awake, thinking of ways to get her out. We needed to escape if we were to survive. But our story is one filled with tragedy. 

Escape was always doomed to have a cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Chapter question:
> 
> 1\. Do you think Calen was right in attempting to leave behind the others to save herself and Diala? Or do you think she should've put forth more effort to save the other children from her tribe?


	5. Chapter four: The Black City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was just a vast lake of emptiness, a well that had dried up in the bitter heat of summer. You would search, deep, deep, deeper, but you would find nothing because the water was no longer there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is a very important chapter. I've tweaked it a lot, and I'm still not entirely happy with it but...I won't get it perfect, so here it is. Please enjoy!

Years passed under the monotony of loneliness.

In an effort to pass the time quicker, I made myself useful and obedient to the Qunari. The decision to be obedient proved fruitful when I was allowed moments of reprieve in my chambers. My arvaarad would remove the heavy helmet that blinded me, and free my lips of their binding. I had strict orders not to speak, and not to look my Arvaarad in the eye, and I followed those orders religiously. These small moments of freedom were the only thing that kept me sane. 

My avaarad was not unnecessarily cruel or harsh, but he was like most other qunari; strict, unfeeling, and didn’t speak much to me. Still, I was attached to him in a way; he was the only person I interacted with. 

I kept my hands folded in my lap in front of me, waiting for him to allow me to wander the room, or perhaps provide a plate of food. 

Moments later, there was a knock on the door and my arvaarad answered it. The smell of food filled the room, and I straightened eagerly. My arvaarad took the plate and made his way across the room to set the plate and mug on the table. 

“Eat,” He ordered gruffly in Qunlat. “Then you are free to move about. There are some new books on the shelf.” I stood, making my way over to the table and taking a seat. I ate quickly but quietly, keeping my eyes on my food or drink the entire time. When I finished I stood and made my way across the room to the small bookshelf. Saarebas like me that had earned the privilege to be allowed moments of sight were often given books or other things to do with their time. My arvaarad had noticed my keen interest in books from the first, and in a rare show of kindness tried to bring me new ones when he could. 

I thumbed over the new titles, looking them over. ‘Encyclopedia of plants in Thedas’, ‘The history of trade and economics on Par Vollen’, and ‘The Secrets of Seheron.’ Perhaps not the most interesting of books, but I consumed whatever knowledge I could nowadays. I picked up the book on Seheron and made my way over to my bed. I laid down on my stomach, head facing the end of the bed as I opened the book and began to read.

Learning to read in Qunari script wasn’t easy. It was much harder than learning to speak the language. There were many characters and many exceptions to any grammar or spelling rules in the language. From what I knew, there were some adult Qunari who still couldn’t completely read Qunlat. For the past year and a half, I dedicated myself to it. Some of the books my arvaarad brought me were in the common tongue, but there were scarce few here on Par Vollen. A Tamasran couldn’t be brought in to teach me, but my Arvaarad had some educational books that could help teach me. My dedication to the language and my thirst for reading helped me to where I am now, reading Qunlat almost effortlessly. I still became confused on some words or sentences, but I worked through it well enough. 

I must’ve spent two hours reading quietly, nearly finished with the book on Seheron when my arvaarad told me to go bathe and settle in for the night. I nodded, closing my book and placing it back on the shelf, and heading into the small bathing area. There was a curtain for privacy, but little good it truly did. It didn’t matter; I’d grown used to bathing with someone else in the room, and my arvaarad hadn’t once been interested in me. 

The strangest thing truly was to see me. I was precious little allowed to look in a mirror, and it’s probably been years now. I couldn’t look at my face, but I could see how my body changed. I must be around nineteen years now, and my body showed it. My limbs had grown long and lithe, and I could scarcely keep much extra weight on me. It wasn’t that the Qunari didn’t feed me, I received three meals a day. I believe it had more to do with the stress of being captive and enslaved, being kept away from Diala, and of course, being kept from the fade. Plus, my tendency to lean on the slimmer side. Even as a child I had been thin, though it had been hidden behind the muscle gained from running through the trees, or helping the camp set up and lift things. 

I ran a soapy hand over my legs, taking in the paleness of my skin. A life in heavy clothes and spent much indoors had turned my skin near ivory. While I hadn’t been ‘tan’ while in the tribe, I’d certainly had a healthy glow to my skin that showed I spent time in the sun. That was gone now, but I was glad to see that some of my scattering of freckles remained on my arms and legs. 

From what I could tell of my hair, it was long and unruly. The red in it had only darkened, making the previously more brown color look a deep auburn. I suppose I liked that change. Mother had always liked the tinge of red in my hair. The waves in my hair had become slightly curled, though not quite ‘curly’. I could only imagine what Dia’s hair looked like now. The dark obsidian locks glinting in the sunlight, looking almost purple or blue. Her hair was always much thicker than mine, and I imagined it had only grown more so. The thought of how Dia might have grown made me smile; it always does. 

I finished cleaning up and stood out of the bath, pulling on my sleeping attire and stepping back into the room. My avaarad approached, placing the sleeping silk over my eyes instead of the helmet, tying it tightly behind my head. Before tying the string through the holes above and below my lips again, he applied a salve to the areas; the wounds had never quite healed, and they probably never would. The holes were always trying to close up, the string the only thing stopping them. Oftentimes, food, water, or sweat would get trapped in the holes, sometimes causing infection or blisters. The salve would help the pain, but only a little. 

He tied my lips, and I climbed onto my bed, covering up and lying against the pillow. The bed wasn’t the most comfortable, but I’d also always slept in a tent my whole life, so the two weren’t all that different. I closed my eyes, expecting another dreamless, fadeless sleep. 

Instead, my mind woke up in the fade for the first time in years. It was completely disorienting. It had been so long, I thought for sure this wasn’t real. That, this was all only some terrible nightmare conjured by my own harrowed subconscious, and that I wasn’t in the fade at all. I didn’t dare hope otherwise. 

When I realized that I was indeed in the fade, I immediately called Diala. A grin curled up my lips, my voice ringing around the green-tinted landscape. The fade had taken the shape of our tribe when we had camped not far from lake Calenhad, southwest of the village of Haven. Dia and I had loved swimming in the lake, though we’d always had to be careful; many towns and even a tower circle had settled around the lake. If they saw Dia and I cast, they may try to take us to a circle, so we always avoided using magic while there. 

“Dia! Dia!” I called out hopefully. Surely, if I was here, then so was Dia? What had allowed us into the fade anyway? 

Just as I thought it, the figure of my sister, aged since I’d last seen her, barreled into me, nearly knocking me to the ground. A moment of joy filled me, but it was quickly replaced with horror. 

The figure before me was my sister, but she was...wrong. Sickly. Her spirit reflected her body I imagined. She was thin and pale, various bruises of different shades and vibrancy covering her skin. Her eyes were sunken in, dark shadows under her eyes making her look more haunted. The sewings in her lips were gone, but I could still see the holes-red, irritated, covered in blisters and leaking infection. My sister may have been older and taller since I’d last seen her, but lack of care appeared to have greatly reduced her body's ability to grow and change healthily. She hadn’t grown much taller from the last I’d seen her. 

“Calen, Cal, Calen, please, please don’t let them do it! Please stop them!” She was screaming and whispering all at once, her lips moving, and then not moving at all, suddenly once again stitched shut. Her eyes remained wild and frightened, like the August Ram the hunters of our tribe would chase and hunt for food. 

“Dia, what’s-stop panicking, tell me what’s going on.” I tried to soothe her, taking her shoulders and holding them still, but she pulled away immediately. The fade trembled around us, the calming waters of the lake suddenly shaking as if disturbed by a giant or even a dragon. Then the lake disappeared altogether, and we found ourselves in the raw fade, the green becoming more vibrant and buzzing with power around us. I reached out to Dia again, trying to grasp her arm. She pulled away, pacing back and forth. 

“You can’t save me,” She whispered to herself, and then glanced back at me, wild eyes looking at me with growing horror. “You can’t save me!” She shrieked, and then came at me again, wrapping her arms around my middle and crushing me into a hug. She sobbed against me, her entire body shaking. She would’ve fallen to her knees if I wasn’t holding her up. “They’re going to do it, Cal, they’re gonna do it, and I’ll be dead! I’ll be gone forever!” I tried to wake up. I willed my mind to remove itself from the fade. Whatever Diala was going on about, it was happening in real-time, in the physical world. I needed to help her, to find her and save her from whatever they were about to do. 

“Tell me where you are,” I ordered her, taking her arms and pulling her away so I could look into her eyes. “Tell me where you are in the village, and I’ll come to find you. I’ll stop it, but I need you to tell me.” 

Dia shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks unbidden. “You can’t,” She whispered. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. They’ll destroy you too, rip out your soul and twist it until it’s gone too.” What was she talking about? Ripping out her soul? What was...

My heart stopped, and I sat up in bed with a gasp. 

They couldn’t. They can’t! They can’t do that to her! They can’t turn her into Viddath-bas! I won’t let them! 

I jumped from my bed, ripping the blindfold off. My arvaarad jumped up as well, probably sensing the jolt of my magic, or the panic filling the room. He clutched the control device in his hand, but my quick movement had startled him, and he had yet to use it. 

I didn’t think, I just acted. My brief interaction with the fade had returned my sense of magic, despite the Arvaarad’s tonics and devices to control me. I focused my magic on the device, heating it rapidly. 

My arvaarad gave a jolt and a grunt of pain, rapidly pulling back from the rod and dropping it. The next spell I cast locked him into a magical prison with lightning for bars, stopping him from grabbing hold of the device again. I raced across the room, grabbing hold of the device, and then making my way towards the door. So long as I had this, they couldn’t stop me from using whatever magic was available to me right now. 

“Saarebas! Cease your madness or you will die!” My arvaarad yelled out angrily, keeping his limbs carefully out of range of the magic bars. He’d seen what this particular spell could do to anyone who tried to escape, and he didn’t seem keen on having it happen to him. 

I stopped my mad dash for the door, turning to give him my attention for a split second. I couldn’t speak, my lips still are sewn shut, and I didn’t have time to cut the sewings away. I met his gaze and allowed the panic, the anger, the fear to communicate between us. 

His eyes flashed with recognition. 

“She cannot be saved! She is imesaar-bas! She is with the viddasala now!” I gave him a scathing glare, renewed the prison, and then I blew the door to our chambers off its hinges. 

I don’t remember much about my panicked running through the halls. The village I had was moved to a smaller one, but no less fortified or controlled than the main villages on Par Vollen. Most of the people I came across got out of my way, none of them willing to stop the violent and dangerous Saarebas on a rampage. Those who did try were either military or Ben-Hassrath. At one point another Saarebas lashed out with their magic under the orders of their arvaarad. 

I’m not positive, but I think I blasted them both with fire. 

A part of me could feel the pain as my heels dug into the harsh wood flooring, and then the stone of the paths as I stepped outside. A part of me could feel the wet slide of tears on my cheeks, the cold of night, the burning of my sewings as I unwittingly tried to scream. I could sense the pain and physical feelings going on in me, but it was like they didn’t truly affect me. I had lost the ability to care about anything but getting to Dia. No pain I could suffer, no aching or barrier in my way held enough power over me to stop me from reaching her. 

Except for time. 

And time was something I had very little of. 

I felt it. I felt the moment the Qamek entered her bloodstream. I screamed as she screamed, wailed as she wailed. I barely realized I was tearing grotesque, bloody holes into my lips. I was on fire, burning, seething, hissing, no, she was on fire, no, we both were on fire. We were the same, suffering together, bleeding together, losing ourselves together.

And then it stopped. For a brief second, the blinding pain hit my brain like a violent shaking hurricane, and then, she was gone. The pain was gone. There just a vast lake of emptiness, a well that had dried up in the bitter heat of summer. You would search, deep, deep, deeper, but you would find nothing because the water was no longer there. 

Life was no longer there. 

My bones became iron. Heavy, entirely too difficult to carry. And yet I couldn’t fall. Falling seemed worse than carrying my own useless body. Falling was oblivion, falling was losing her, truly losing her. So, I stood in place, unmoving like a statue. Vaguely I realized people had wandered up to me, cautiously. Arvaraad’s with their saarebas, and Ben-Hassrath all cautiously circled me in. My own Arvaarad approached soon after, but none dared yet try and take the rod from my hand. 

“Saarebas,” My arvaarad spoke cautiously, motioning subtly with his hand at one of the Ben-hassrath next to him. “It was necessary, she was uncontrollable. She attacked her arvaarad.” I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t. Streams of blood poured into my mouth, nearly choking me. 

“Do not throw away your progress,” He tried again, taking a step closer. He reached his hand out, and the frost inside of me was overwhelmed by a volcanic explosion of rage and power. 

I covered my ears and slammed my eyes shut to the world around me, shrieking out my fury and letting my magic unfurl itself from deep inside of me. I could feel it churning the world around me, I could feel the veil holding the fade and the physical world separate, and I could feel how it trembled and shook against my magic, like a door rattling on its hinges but not quite budging. 

I pushed, pushed, and pushed against the door, sending angry swipes at it, each one filled with dark violence. I kept screaming, screaming, screaming…

My voice left me. My lungs deflated, the air gone from my body. I didn’t dare breathe in. I didn’t want to imagine what I would do with it. I would scream and never stop. 

I collapsed onto the ground. I opened my eyes but didn’t take in the world around me. I stared blankly at the ground, feeling my heartbeat steadily in my chest and I briefly wondered to myself why that was when I wasn’t breathing. I glanced up. 

The world shown green light all around me. Wisps and spirits moved about, some running about on the search for something, and others resting upon rocks or ledges. I lifted a hand, watching it closely. 

It was rare I was ever in the raw fade. The fade and spirits usually shaped the fade to suit whatever I wanted. Sometimes, my thoughts subconsciously changed the fade, shaping the frostbacks from my memory despite not willing it. There were no illusions or shaping of the fade this time; it was painfully raw, every aspect of the fade entirely its own. 

The fade appearing this way isn’t what truly surprised me though; it was the city before me, large, looming iron gates blocking me or anyone from entering. I instinctively knew this city, though I had never gotten this close before. 

The Black City. 

The looming tower fortress was the most eye-drawing part of the structure before me, though it was indeed a city, just as it was said in Andrastian history books. I couldn’t see much past the gates but abandoned buildings and cold, empty pathways. It looked like an eternal night, though it was bright enough to make out every shape. 

It was said that this is the place where the Tevinter Magisters became darkspawn, though the legends vary. To the Chantry, the magisters sought out heaven, The Golden City, but they had sinned by entering heaven and had thus been turned into the first Darkspawn for their crimes, and that was what had started blight. The Golden City had then become the Black City. 

The Avvar had a different legend, though not all that strange. It’s said that the Black City housed the strongest and the most powerful of the gods, but that these gods were violent, dangerous, and they hated humanity. We believed that it was the father mountain, the lady of the skies, and our other gods that forced these dangerous god's away into the black city where they could not harm the fade or the world again. Unfortunately, when the magisters opened one of the gates to the city, they freed the dark gods, who then exited the fade and started the first blight. 

Whether these were the Tevinter Old Gods or not, was never specified. I just imagine that no one knew. Looking at this place now, it certainly looked empty, but no less terrifying. Why did I end up here? I’ve never been drawn this close to the black city before. In fact, the Fade had a way of keeping me as far away from the city as possible whenever I dreamed. 

“Do you believe in fate, my dear?” I jumped, letting out a small shriek as I whipped around. Behind me stood Sigfrost, in the last form I saw him in as a bereskarn sloth demon. It didn’t frighten me like it once did. Instead, I was almost relieved to see him. 

“Sigfrost!” I called, taking a step towards him. He cocked his head to the side, dark eyes looking me over. “What’s going on? Why am I here?” I asked. He hummed. 

“You came here on your own. Your soul screamed its agony upon the heavens, and the fade trembled. Woke me from my nap. It was quite rude.” He looked to be frowning, though you can’t tell since he’s a bear. 

“But why here? Why The Black City?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. He sat back on his haunches. 

“Unimaginable power lies beyond the gates to the Black City. Power seeks power. It wants you, as you want it.” I shook my head. 

“No, I'm not going in there. We already have the Blight, we don’t need anything worse.” Sigfrost chuckled under his breath, shaking his large head, almost as if amused. 

“Blight? My dear, a curse once cast cannot be cast again. Furthermore, you’ve no need for blood magic, I imagine the gates will open freely to you. Those old Magisters were in over their heads and they paid the price. But you, no, I imagine you’ll be quite the curiosity to those that lie on the other side.” 

I crossed my arms to hide my trembling. “I can’t. The Gates closed.” I pointed out. Sigfrost sighed in annoyance. 

“I do wish it had been the other one who survived,” He muttered lowly to himself. “Much less conversation to be had,” He looked back at me. “The Gate will open to you, and only you. Make sure those pesky immortals know it too, don’t want to get their hopes up.” I frowned. Immortals? I opened my mouth to object, only to find myself on the receiving end of a snarling bereskarn. 

I shrieked, stumbling backward in my haste to getaway. I fell back against the iron-wrought gate, the metal clattering together loudly at my back. Sigfrost advanced on me, teeth still bared threateningly. 

“Into the city, fremd. Go, before it is too late.” He commanded, hot, vile breath blowing into my face. I turned my head slowly, glancing back at the black city through the bars. Some life seemed to have momentarily been breathed into the city as I looked into it, so slight you could almost deny it. A light shuffling of the wind, a breeze that cleared the smell of Sigfrost’s breath from my lungs, replacing it with the distinct earthly smell of the frostbacks. I suppose it was meant to be inviting, but the smell only made me more nervous. 

I looked back at Sigfrost. He snarled again, obviously unhappy with the expression I wore. I gulped. “I’m scared,” I whispered lowly, shaking my head. Another snarl, closer this time. 

“Now, or I shall take advantage of your vulnerable state and turn you into an abomination!” His words finally made me move; I grasped at the bars behind me, searching for some way to open the gate. When I could not find a handle or lock, I moved to clutch at the gate, pushing at the bars. I was forlorn to turn my back on the snarling dark spawn bear threatening me, but he’d made it clear he would destroy me if I didn’t do as he ordered. 

I pushed and pulled at the gate furiously, but it would not budge. Sigfrost let out an annoyed hiss through his nose. “Your magic! Use your magic!” Fingers trembling, I wrapped them around an iron bar and began to focus channeling my magic on the gate. The bars creaked and shuttered beneath my touch. The purple hue of my magic swirled around the bars, forming runes and symbols until it had spread across the entire gate. The gate creaked open, moving so easily it was as if the gate had not been an immovable object only seconds before. 

I didn’t spare a glance back at Sigfrost as I rushed through the gates, desperate to put some distance between us. I needn’t have worried; The moment I entered the city, the gates snapped closed behind me, once again an impenetrable wall. 

My eyes wandered over the dark city, the fear inside of me not settling. The streets were desolate, the earlier wind from before completely gone now. The houses and buildings, all surrounding the giant fortress at the heart of it all, were worn down and dilapidated. They reminded me of the towns the tribe would occasionally come across, the ones abandoned from Blight or war. Roofs were torn away or collapsed, the pathways covered with rubble, bones, and occasionally dried blood. These towns were always foreboding as if death still clung deep into the soil. 

The structures may have looked worn down like normal, but it was architecture like I’d never seen. Each building was bigger and greater than the last, and I imagined they must have been a sight to behold in their prime. I wasn’t familiar with alchemy or crafting, but the materials of the buildings were something I’d never even imagined before. Creamy white, with shades of gold or amber speckled throughout. Each piece of stone looked carefully carved and placed. Embedded within some of the buildings were runes; some were easily recognizable, like protection or fire, whilst others were symbols I’d never seen before. The roofs that weren’t crumbling were rounded spires and smooth edges. Whatever the Black City once was, it must’ve been home to fortuitous beings. 

The cobblestone path I walked sprawled upwards, slowly winding its way up towards the fortress which sat at the heart of the city. The fortress was made of a completely different material than the buildings in the city, looking closer to something like a mix between Silverite and obsidian. The stone glittered whenever light touched it, which wasn’t often. At the end of the path was a moat, the entrance into the fortress blocked by a piece of that same glittering stone that made up the rest of the building, a strange rune embedded in the middle of it. On closer inspection, it appeared the wall of stone was the part of the drawbridge that would need to connect to get to the fortress. 

I drew my hand over the stone curiously, sighing when I felt the sturdiness. 

“Well now what, you damn demon,” I muttered spitefully, taking a step back to glance around further. There didn’t seem to be another entry into the building. I stood at the entrance for a few minutes before realization hit me; I should be just as capable as shapeshifting here, as I am in the physical world, or the rest of the Fade. A sense of mild embarrassment fell over me. I should’ve figured that out right away, but being kept from the fade for so many years seems to have had an effect. 

I focused my magic, and a moment later I was much smaller in form, burgundy wings flapping to keep me in the air. I soared upwards, deciding to get an aerial view of the infamous black city before making my way into the fortress. As I thought, there had only been one entrance into the fortress, the rest of the large structure blocked from the rest of the city by the deep moat. 

I swooped down, perching onto the ledge of a window on the highest tower. Glass blocked my entrance into the room, and so I transformed back into my human form, one hand clutching into the stone ledge beneath me, the other pressing against the glass to open it. With a bit of gentle shoving, the latch holding the two glass structures together broke, the casing pushing inwards. I swung my legs around from the ledge into the building, hopping down to connect with the stone floor. 

“Whoa,” I breathed out in a low whisper, eyes widening in awe. The room was large, the stone on the inside of the room a light, almost white color compared to the near-black stone making up the outside of the castle. The room was clearly the chambers of some extremely rich and powerful person, at least at one point in time. The floor was a darker stone than the walls but covered in rugs of all different colors and patterns-gold, orange, red, brown, amber, yellow. Drapes in similar colors hung around the walls, occasionally separating parts of the room from other parts, like a large stone bathtub filled with steaming clear water, with two large runes sitting embedded in the bottom of the tub. I peered down to read the runes. The runes were a fire rune and a cleansing rune. Hm, Clever. 

Large armoires stood near the bath, probably holding numerous amounts of beautiful and expensive clothing. On the opposite side of the room was a nook, shelves of books lined up against the wall with a small sitting space pressed right up against a large window overlooking the rest of the city. I eyed the books with uncontrolled curiosity, unable to stop myself from making my way over there. I frowned when I realized the books were in a script I couldn’t read. Who knows what kind of incredible knowledge they carry inside of them, and I wasn’t even able to read them.

Not far from the nook was an ornately carved wooden desk, papers and other items organized neatly atop of it. At the back of the room, so large and curious I don’t know how I’d missed it before, was a round bed, surrounded by gold and amber silks. 

I hesitated for just a moment before making my way over to the large bed, running my hand over the silks and then pushing them to the side. The frame of the bed looked to be made of gold. The blankets covering the bed were a deep red, the exposed sheets a dark tan color. There was a form rested beneath the sheets, still and peaceful. My eyes trailed upwards. A man. 

I jerked backward, taking a hurried and rushed step back, the silks brushing across my shoulders. Fear came to life inside of me again, threatening to overtake curiosity. I almost turned and ran, certain that this was a trick of some sort, that the man would rise and grab me, kill my spirit while I traveled through his domain uninvited. 

But as I studied him, my sense of curiosity won out. As terrifying as this place was, as terrifying as the prospect of what could happen, this was a once in a lifetime chance. No one but the magisters of old Tevinter had ever entered the Black City. That should frighten me beyond belief, and it did, but not as much as it incited my thirst for knowledge. The male sleeping before me probably had all of the answers, all the knowledge I could ever dream of. 

I wanted to know. 

I stepped back under the silks, trailing across the edge of the bed to come around to its side. The sleeping male rested peacefully, his chest rising and falling slowly. He was pale, even paler than me, reminding me of carved bone before it browned, or the rare white oak trees we occasionally stumbled across in the frostbacks. Despite his pallor, there was a warmth to his cheeks, a gentle blush that gave life to his still form.

I placed a knee onto the bed, leaning over atop the blankets to get a closer look at him. Beauty had never been something the tribe had concerned itself much with. There had always been more important things, like avoiding the magisters or making sure we didn’t starve or freeze to death. Mother had always told me I was a beauty though, and she told Diala the same. Still, there wasn’t much I understood about beauty, but I imagined this man would be the personification of the word. His skin was smooth and clear, sides for a small, silvery scar just below his bottom lip. He had full lips for a man, bottom lip slightly bigger than the top, and a long straight nose. His jaw was strong and pronounced, his forehead smooth and free of any lines. His eyelashes were long and blond, brushing gently against the skin beneath his eyes. His hair was a similar color, light, and golden blond, falling to about his shoulders, the strands silky and soft-looking. As my eyes traveled over his form, I stopped on his ears; pointed. He’s an elf. 

I nearly scowled; the tribe didn’t have much interaction with elves, but when we did it wasn’t usually pleasant. We most often ran into the elusive Dalish clans, and they were not great fans of the Avvar. Call us ‘savages’ and ‘brutes’. 

At least we didn’t tattoo our faces in some magical, fanatical ritual to some gods we hardly even understood or knew.

This man had no facial tattoos though. Whoever he was, he wasn’t dalish. 

Who was he then? What was he doing in the Black City? I’d never read much on elves; I’d had enough of them whenever I dealt with the Dalish, but I did know that legends said that a long time ago, Elves were immortal beings. They could not die by natural means, and killing them was not an easy task. There were stories among the Avvar, stories we did not share with others outside of our communities; The Alamarri was the first of us after all, and we knew things not written in books, but merely passed down by word. 

It was believed that the Alamarri and the Ancient Elves were at war, way long ago. The Ancient Elves were immortal, beautiful, and dangerously powerful, and we were what we always were; mortal and aging. Some of the Elves wanted to cast us out, or even kill us off. They feared we would make them like us. Others wanted to enslave us, but what we lacked in immortality, we made up for in gumption. It was said the Alamarri fought the ancient Elves constantly, but they lacked the power and resources to truly win the war. We could only barely manage to survive their assaults. 

The fluttering of his eyes pulled me from my thoughts. I stilled, keeping as quiet as possible, my breath hitching in my throat. His eyes fluttered a second longer, and then snapped open. 

For a second, we were frozen; our eyes were locked, the stormy grey of my eyes clashing with the brilliant amber-gold of his. He blinked at me, no discernible expression on his face. 

The moment passed, and I jolted backward, falling onto my backside, one arm clutching behind me to stop me from falling off of the bed. A small noise left my lips, something between a squeak and a grunt. I moved my other arm, ready to scoot myself backward off of the opulent bed and turn tail, but long elegant fingers curled around my wrist mid-air. 

I froze once more, sucking in a deep breath of air and holding his vibrant gaze once more. I dared not move; I didn’t know who this man was, but I dared not cause the ire of a being that lives in the Black City. His eyes peered into mine, expression still fathomless. It made me shift uncomfortably; I wasn’t used to being unable to discern what people were thinking or feeling. 

“In ma amelan or anbanal?” He murmured lowly, eyes leaving my own to trace down my face. The hand that wasn’t holding my wrist captive reached up, his fingers briefly tracing feather-light touches over my cheek, and then reaching upwards into my hair, brushing the auburn strands behind my ear. His expression turned inquisitive immediately, a low hum escaping his throat. “Shemlen I've'an'virelan,”

“Umm,” I managed to stutter out, and not a single sound more. My cheeks reddened. 

His eyes return to meet mine, “Garas Quenathra?” He appeared to be asking me a question, but I didn’t understand a word of Elvhen. Except for Fen’Harel Ma Halam; I don’t know exactly what it means, but the tribe and I had it thrown at us enough times by the Dalish to know it’s most likely insulting. 

I shook my head softly, “I don’t...I don’t understand.” I spoke in Old Alamarri. 

“Why are you here?” He changed to Alamarri without flinching, the words leaving his lips effortlessly. I glanced down at my captive wrist, and then back up at him, gulping nervously. 

“Sigfrost sent me.” It was all I could manage to whisper the words out. I didn’t know why I was acting like a skittish fennec, but I got the sense that this man could turn dangerous at a second’s notice.

His eyes flashed with familiarity. “I see. And what is your name?” He asked. 

“What’s yours?” The words weren’t intentionally defiant, though they still came out as such. I cringed immediately after speaking them, fearing the worst. Instead of anger or retribution though, his eyes lit up in curious amusement. 

“Bellanaris.” I hadn’t expected him to answer. Confused, I nodded along, passing off dazed concern as thoughtfulness. 

“Calendula,” I answered in the same fashion and then stopped. I slid my eyes over to meet his. “Calen, please. I prefer Calen.” His hand dropped from my ear, his other hand also letting go of my wrist. I scooted backwards as he moved to sit up, the blankets falling to rest around his lap. He wore a thin silken white shirt that hung loosely around his frame. As he gave a small yawn and reached an arm up to ruffle his hair, his sleeves fell back, revealing a lean muscled bicep. A thin, silvery-purple scar ran up the length of his bicep, looking healed over several times as if the wound had been deep and unable to heal correctly. ‘Warrior,’ I realized faintly, storing that information away for later. 

We sat in silence for a moment, his fingers brushing through his silken blond locks, and then falling forward to rub the sleep from his eyes. I jumped as he moved suddenly, scooting over towards the edge of the large bed and swinging his legs over the side. He ignored me now, standing to his feet and moving gracefully across the room towards his large armoires. He pulled them open and began to go through them. 

I watched quietly for a moment, unsure of how to continue. This wasn’t what I had expected from a being in the Black City. 

Well, I had been expecting to be turned to ash on the spot or infected with the blight, so I suppose this is better. Still, disconcerting all the same. 

“Did you open the gates?” I startled from my thoughts, his voice ringing through the room suddenly. He had several articles of clothing thrown over his right arm, the armoires closed and his attention back on me now. I shifted awkwardly, moving to stand up off of the bed. 

I shook my head. “No, well, yes but no. One of the gates allowed me in, but it closed right after. Sigfrost also said something about that. He said-um-he said to make sure the immortals in the city knew that the gate wouldn’t open to them.” I relayed quietly. He hummed in response, his lips turning down into a short frown, though he didn’t seem particularly perturbed by the news. 

“And did Sigfrost explain why you are capable of entering the city?” He asked. He took long strides towards the steaming bath now, pulling back the silk curtains hanging over it and stepping inside. Without a second thought, he pulled his silken shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. 

A shrill squeak left me, and I whirled around to turn from him. I wasn’t particularly shy, I’d had to learn to bathe in front of others, but no one had ever actually bathed in front of me. 

A short laugh left him, husky and musical, and then he repeated his question. I gulped, steadying my breathing before speaking;

“He didn’t offer up many answers. He said a curse cast once cannot be cast again, and something about how I didn’t need blood magic to enter the city because it would let me in; whatever that means,” I answered, and frowned. Something was beginning to nudge at the back of my mind, something that a part of me recognized I should pay attention to, but I shoved it back forcefully. I needed to stay focused on one thing at a time. “He said I would be a curiosity to you.” I continued slowly. 

He didn’t seem all that curious about me. Maybe it was better that way though. 

“Sigfrost is an old spirit; he has lived and died, and lived again, and he remembers those lives, even if he doesn’t recall what it felt like to live them. I am also old,” He didn’t elaborate further, so I took that as my answer, unuseful as it was. 

We were quiet again, besides the sounds of water splashing and moving. I kept my back turned, taking that time to watch the room. I feel like I should be more frightened than I am right now, but I can’t seem to conjure up the feeling. Strange. 

“You are expending tremendous amounts of magic to be here right now, Calen. Are you aware of this?” His voice sounded closer now, so I turned. He had exited the bath and dressed, wearing a long crimson robe open at the front to reveal a black shirt and dark trousers beneath. His hair was wet and slicked back, giving me a full view of the ethereal features of his face. 

I cocked my head to the side curiously, “But if I’m in the fade, I must be dreaming. How would I be using magic right now?” I asked. 

The second the words left my lips, the fade changed around me. 

I stood on the snowy banks of a frozen lake, just outside of a town called Sarhnia. Though technically still in the frostback mountains, the tribe had to travel lower down the mountain than usual due to the heavy snow. I was only about nine at the time, and mother had sewn me heavy winter clothes, lined in the fur of fennecs, the august ram skin also doing its part to keep out the cold. Diala stood not far off, wearing warm clothes made of the same materials. Mother had braided back her jet black curls, but several strands were already flying in the wind as she shimmied her way up a tree to chase a crow. 

The younger version of myself ran after her, scolding Dia even as she made up the tree opposite of hers. Young Calen called for a race to the top and then transformed into a bear cub to climb up the rest of the way. Young Dia didn’t have a handle on her shapeshifting just yet, and began to cry as young Calen ‘cheated.’ 

“A quaint scene,” Calen jumped at the voice beside her, turning to face the elven man from before. She hadn’t realized she’d pulled him along into her memory, but she supposed they had been in the same part of the fade when it happened. 

Why did this memory come up anyway? 

“Your sister?” He continued, ignoring my startlement. I chewed my lip, nodding. 

“Dia,” I answered softly, glancing back at her. She had cheered up quickly, jumping down from the tree and getting her revenge by pelting Calen with a snowball. Young Calen didn’t take the hit well, taking the form of a bird next and flying over Dia’s head, feigning aggression, swooping down at her head and then flying back up abruptly. 

Dia started crying again. 

I couldn’t help a small laugh. 

“Your ability to shapeshift at such a young age is...masterful.” He spoke beside me, eyeing me carefully. I shrugged. 

“It came naturally to me, but I struggled with other magics,” I explained softly. He raised a brow, obviously asking for clarification. I sighed. “Magic was easy for me in some ways, and not in others. Shapeshifting was the only way my magic manifested physically in a way that was simple and easy for me. Other magic, like force or elemental, or even the basics, well, I struggled with them. Even healing. Affecting the outside world was difficult for me. The fade was different. I could change the fade at will; I could call spirits to me, or banish them away. I could transform freely here, into whatever I wanted. I felt more at home in the fade than I ever did in the real world.” I admitted. He regarded me carefully, closely, as if deciding something. 

“Something has happened across the veil, Calendula. Something very grave,” He told me carefully. I frowned, opening my mouth to question him, but he held up a hand to stop me. “What do you remember?” He asked gently. 

My face scrunched up in concentration as I forced myself to think back across the veil of what had sent me here in the first place. Dia and I were captured by Qunari and turned into Saarebas. They kept us apart from each other since they feared our power together. 

The fade began to shift around us, showing my memories as they began to come to me. The siege on the Tevinter boat, Dia and I’s fighting against both the magisters and the Qunari, and then being taken upon the Dreadnaught with the other children. The conversation with the Qunari I saved that day…

Getting our lips sewn shut…The pain of the needle piercing through skin, of the itchy thread being pulled through the wounds...the cries I could not muffle, no matter how hard I tried...

I winced but forced myself to continue through my memories. If something terrible had happened, I needed to remember it. I needed to get to Dia and help her. Learning Qunlat with the Tamassran, being named ‘Asala,’ my time doing as the Qunari bid as Saarebas, learning to read Qunlat, the first dream Dia and I had shared in the fade-in years…

The fade shook around us, the images distorting as they ran in tandem together. I could hear Dia’s voice clearly as she called me. 

“Calen, please don’t let them do it! Please, you have to stop them!” Dia shrieked, crying and sobbing. I whipped around, searching the distorted scenery for my sister, but she was nowhere to be seen. Not even the young version of her from the memory. “You can’t save me...You can’t save me!” I covered my ears, fighting the shrieking, the building dread under my skin. 

“They’re gonna do it...they’re gonna kill me, I’ll be gone forever…” The memories shattered and something high and tortured began to shriek its fury, and it took me several seconds to realize it was me. 

I clutched at my head, yanking on the strands of hair as I screamed and screamed, pouring all the agony out from my veins, let the fury inside of me shape and change the fade around me. She was gone… they had killed her soul… I couldn’t save her, and they killed her soul and…

Hands grabbed hold of my arms, whirling me around to face them. I found myself face to face with the blonde elven man from before, the one who had forced me to remember Diala’s demise. His face was unreadable steel, his cold eyes searching my expression, and then glancing behind me. I turned to follow his gaze, but his hands rested against my face, forcing my eyes to meet his. 

“She’s not dead, not truly…” He murmured, thumb stroking the underside of my eye. I felt the water smear across my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized I was crying… “Her magic is inside of you now, her heart, her soul...they fled from their torture and came home to you, Calen.” A sob broke free from my lips and I reached up, removing his hands from my face as I tried to force the tears to stop falling. 

I don’t remember exactly what happened after that. My vision blurred my tears. I felt the vague sensation of being picked up, of being moved, and the warmth of a comforting body pressing itself against mine. The moments of despair that took hold of me seemed to go on for hours and mere seconds all at the same time. The world, the Fade, it all merged into one jumbled, horrific nightmare. She couldn’t be gone...she just... 

When the tears finally dried enough to make sense of the world around me, I lifted my head from the warmth it rested against to peer around. We had returned to the large chamber Bellanaris had slept in. I was still encased in the warmth from before; Bellanaris held my body on his lap, my legs draped to one side, my torso rested against him, my head having been pressed into the juncture of his neck and shoulder as I cried. One of his hands rested curled into my hair, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into my scalp, and the other held me close by clutching my waist. His grip loosened as I pulled back, looking upwards to meet his steady gaze. 

“Why?” I croaked, both grateful and suspicious. I had never been unable to sense demons before, but this was the black city… they may be more powerful, more crafty here. What if he is a demon taking advantage of my pain? Trying to possess me? I am in no state to fight a possession. 

His eyes held mine calmly. “You have lost so much...suffered so much. You need not be strong forever, da’lan,” he murmured carefully. 

I studied him, searching for deception, for trickery, but in my current state, I was not capable of knowing for certain. “I do not know if you are a spirit seeking to comfort me or if you are a demon seeking to destroy me. I’m not sure I care,” I murmured, voice hoarse from crying. One side of his lips quirked into something reminiscent of a smile. 

“Perhaps I am both, perhaps I am neither.” He said cryptically. 

I sighed lowly, “Sigrost said something similar to me,” I replied, leaning back down to place my head against his shoulder, speaking words into his neck. “When I asked if he were a demon or a god, he said he was both; he said, just as I was sister and daughter, we are all many things to many different people. I didn’t find it comforting.” I said, the last sentence coming out snarkier than intended. He huffed out a short, amused laugh in response, his fingers beginning to trail through my hair. 

“You humans have always been good at placing spirits into categories, just as you do everything else. Evil, good, spirit, demon...all two sides of the same coin. But if it reassures you, da’lan, I am no demon of which you speak of.” He promised. I hummed noncommittally in response. 

I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t sure if I cared. Though I had stopped my tears, my heart still ached with a pain that would never end. 

“I doubt you would tell me if you were a demon,” I responded simply. 

“No, I imagine not.” He said softly. 

“You are elven,” I murmured. 

“I am,”

“But you are not Dalish,” 

I could feel his frown. “What is Dalish?” He asked. I pulled back to glance up at his confused frown. I frowned as well. 

“You really must have been here long,” I examined. “The Dalish are the last of the elves that follow the old ways of your people. The Elven gods, the old tongue. They live in encampments in the forests, similar to my people. They have these tattoos on their faces, the adult ones anyways. We would run across each other sometimes.” 

“Vallaslin?” He murmured thoughtfully. His eyes turned analytical, shuffling through and examining my words. I cocked my head to the side. 

“Vallaslin?” I asked, trying to repeat the word but clearly butchering it by the way his lips pulled up into an amused smirk. 

“I believe the translation into your tongue would be ‘blood writing.’ They are...magic engravings in the skin.” He explained simply, carefully. “What of the other elven? You say these Dalish are the last of the elves who follow the old ways. What of the others?”

“They…” I hesitated, chewing my bottom lip nervously. “I do not spend much time in society with other humans,” I admitted. “But, from what I do know, most elves are not treated kindly. Some live as second class citizens in the towns with humans, and some are stolen and sold as slaves to the Tevinter Imperium.” 

He did not seem upset by this notion; he seemed only to absorb my words, carefully calculating their meaning in his head. 

“You must leave soon,” Bellanaris commented, changing the subject abruptly. His fingers traced over the back of my neck gently, sending a shiver down my spine. “Your power is great, but you are spending mass amounts of it every second you are here. Even you cannot hold time captive forever.” I moved backward on his lap until I stood. 

“What do you mean? Holding time captive? I don’t-” The world around us was starting to blur and blend, a sure sign that just as he said, my magic was waning. 

“You will be weakened when you return to your body,” He explained, standing as well. He offered out his hand to me. “You will not be capable of punishing those who have harmed you and your sister, of escaping their clutches by yourself. Let me help you, Calen. I promise not to betray you.” 

I stared at him for several long seconds, thinking over his offer. It was the sort of thing a demon would say. I knew better than to make a deal with a being in the fade, especially considering I was in the Black City. 

But I found I didn’t care. He could be a demon, and he could possess my body. So long as I got revenge. 

“If you are a demon,” I told him seriously. “And you plan to possess me, at least promise me you will kill every single one of them first.” 

He nodded once, making no effort to try to convince me of a lie or truth I would not believe. I placed my hand in his. His power was subtle at first, a gentle wisp of touch against mine as if he were testing the boundaries. And then it hit full force, hot and burning and monstrous. 

I gasped, nearly jumping to move my hand from his, and he gripped my hand, holding it in place. His skin glowed with the golden hue of his magic, and where we touched the golden glow followed, racing up my arm until it covered my whole body. The heat grew and grew, becoming unbearable until I was shrieking. As his magic rushed through my veins, I felt a new kind of pain heat up on my back, like nails dragging across me drawing blood as it circled and patterned. 

“Almost done,” He murmured softly, the hand not holding mine reaching forward to grip the side of my neck in a soothing touch. Almost instantly, the pain came to an abrupt stop, his hand releasing mine. My back burned, but even the pain I felt in it now could not compare to how it was earlier. 

“What did you do?” I wheezed, leaning over to catch my breath. His hands ran up and down my arms in gentle touches, soft and soothing. 

“Now, I can help you take revenge.” He had just finished his last word when the fade spun and twisted, and my spirit form seemed to be ripped away from him and the castle, forced out of the black city like a recoil of a rubber band. I blinked, and when I next opened my eyes, I was surrounded by fire and smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Qunlat translations:  
> -Saarebas: Dangerous thing (mages in the qunari)  
> -Arvaarad: those tasked with controlling mages in the Qunari  
> -Viddasala: Those who are responsible for finding, studying, and stopping magic.   
> -imesaar-bas: A child tempted and corrupted by demons  
> -Ben-hassrath: spies, protecting the people. (Iron Bull, Tallis, fall under this category)  
> -Qamek: It is a poison that wipes out memories and turning them into mindless slaves. It's like being made tranquil.  
> Alamarri translations:  
> -fremd: friendly stranger   
> Elven translations:  
> -In ma Amelan or anbanal?: This is a (very) rough translation. "Are you the keeper of the void?" He's essentially asking her if she is death coming to take him to hell.   
> -Shelem i've'an'virelan: Human fade walker, quickling fade walker. He's essentially calling her a human somniari.   
> -Garas Quenathra: Why are you here?/why have you come?  
> -Bellanaris: Eternity
> 
> For these translations, I mostly used Fenxshiral's (https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) works on Alamarri and Elvhen. I also used some of the translations from the dragon age wiki, especially in regards to Qunlat. 
> 
> -Some of the history/legends Calen talks about in this chapter are not canon but theories and ideas of my own that I thought fit with the story and fill in some of the blanks. 
> 
> Chapter questions:  
> 1\. How do you think Calen had the magic necessary to freeze time and enter the fade?  
> 2\. What is Sigfrost hoping to achieve by sending Calen into the Black City?  
> 3\. Why could Calen enter the Black city without harm when the magisters from before could not?  
> 4\. Who is the mysterious Elven man Calen meets in the Black city?


	6. Chapter five: Katari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stand down, Saarebas, or she will die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys! Finally got this edited. It's a lot shorter of a chapter than I originally thought, so sorry it's such a long wait for such a short chapter. It is also frightfully upsetting. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for Mild gore, mild torture, and death.

It was a daze, staring out at the mess around me. The world was the same, and yet not. It was the same dark sky, lightning strikes streaking through the gray clouds every so often. The same dirt beneath my feet, the same people around me. That was all that remained the same. 

All around me, the village buildings burned, some already ash on the ground. Bodies of Qunari laid scattered around me, some moving, some eerily. Some coughed and groaned, others crawled and attempted to get back on their feet. Thunder cracked above. Lightning sped down from the sky not far off, striking across the tip of a building to my left. A moment later, another strike followed, hitting the next building over. The ground beneath my feet was cracked, crumbling, and torn apart. The cracks in the ground spread out around me in every direction, leading in large splits outward towards the village.

“Saarebas,” I turned instinctively, my Arvaraad getting to his feet behind me. He clutched his ribs, a long, thin cut across his temple leaking blood. “You doom yourself, Saarebas. You will face the same fate as your sister,” He coughed weakly, forcing himself to stand straight and meet my gaze with a cold, apathetic glare. 

I turned, casting a careful glance around and then moving towards him. With a simple wave of my hand, far simpler than it should have been, he found himself on his back. A groan of pain left his lips.

“Not today,” I answered, stopping to stand above him. “But your death will arrive soon. The only question is if it will be easy or painful?” I asked, crouching down beside him carefully. He looked so pitiful now; covered in blood, cuts, and bruises. It was strange to think I’d been so terrified of him only an hour ago. 

“I do not fear your power, Saarebas. You will face your punishment soon-” His words broke off in a scream as the power Bellanaris had shared with me flared underneath my skin. I heard the gentle whisper of his voice inside my head, coaxing me, promising me that I would find her, that they would all pay. The Avaraad’s skin blistered and boiled, turning red and then black little by little, peeling back to reveal muscle and bone. It was only when his entire right hand was charred to nothing but bone and charred muscle that he pleaded for mercy. 

“Where is my sister?” I hissed. He gasped and panted, whimpers of pain escaping his mouth every second. Blood dribbled down his chin from where he’d bitten his lip.

“In the village to the west, only five miles away from this one.” He panted, turning over and clutching at his hand, letting out another whine of pain, heavy droplets of tears leaking down his face.

I stood up, glaring down at him coldly. “Kost, Arvaraad. Ataash varin kata.” He met my gaze, pain shining in his eyes. 

“Maraas Kata. Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun.” 

I clenched my fist at my side, and his body turned to ash. I turned to look west, and I began my journey, leaving the remnants of a village burned to the ground.

…

Diala’s village burned just as easily and quickly as my own. The only difference was that the Qunari were far more unprepared for the assault. As I watched the Qunari run from their homes and buildings, coughing and screaming and collapsing, I tried to muster up some sense of guilt, pity, shame-anything. 

All I felt was rage and an apathetic sense of satisfaction. 

I walked slowly in the direction of Diala, now close enough to sense her presence, as faint as it was now. She waited in the large house in the center of the village, where procedures such as administering the qamek were taken place. 

It was the only building I had not struck with my magic, but already the fires were spreading, smoke beginning to rise little by little as it snuck into the big house. Within the foyer stood four people, one of them being my sister. 

My chest nearly concaved at the mere sight of her. She stood center in the room, the arm of her Arvaraad wrapped loosely around her throat as if she would dare to fight him now. 

She had grown so much. Her raven black hair had been shaved short to her head, and the expression she wore was dull and lifeless, but I could still see small aspects of my sister; the facial features we shared and differed, the crystal color of her eyes. She was taller than me, as I had always expected her to be when we were children. She was impossibly thin, with sallow skin and sunken eyes. Gone was the golden tan of her skin, replaced by a dull gray. I swallowed a sob.

Starved. Abused. Tortured. 

I clenched my fists, tears managing to escape my eyes in hot rivulets. My fingernails dug into my palms, drawing blood. I couldn’t break down now- not yet. Dia needed me to be strong now more than ever. I glared, taking in the other individuals in the room. 

First, the Tamassran who had most likely administered the Qamek. Second, what was most likely a member of the priesthood. Ben-hassrath was most likely. I could tell by the careful posture, the way his eyes swept over me with cold calculation.

“Stand down, Saarebas, or she will die.” Her Arvaraad barked cruelly, tightening his grip around her throat. 

She didn’t show any signs that she’d even felt it. 

“She is already dead!” I hissed, pointing a finger at her. “Look at her! She is gone! You have killed her soul! Wrenched it from her body and left behind a shell.” I cried, tears stinging with more tears. The member of the Priesthood, a large hulking Qunari male, ran at me with a quiet finesse, likely hoping to catch me off guard in my moment of pain. A second later, my spell made contact, his legs going rigid beneath him as the paralysis glyph took hold of him. 

I took a step forward, holding out my hand and squeezing my fist, the magic building and taking hold of the Tamassran and Arvaraad. They both screeched in pain as large, thick vines reached up out of nowhere and wrapped around them, piercing their skin and keeping them in place. 

That left Dia, standing there blankly. I ignored the pleas and cries of the Qunari and I approached Diala, holding back a sob that dared to wrack my entire body and leave me frozen in place. I clutched her upper arms, giving a gentle squeeze. 

“Are you going to kill me?” She asked flatly, words uncaring. I reached a fist up to bite on it, hand trembling violently. Teeth pierced skin, the taste of blood bursting into my mouth. I sucked in a deep breath of air, tears falling harder. She cocked her head to the side, eyes looking over my face in the facade of curiosity. She reached up her hands, placing each on the sides of my face. “Do not cry,” She murmured, voice the same apathetic tone as before. “You cry when you are sad. Do not be sad.” 

I couldn’t hold back the sob this time, clutching at her wrists as I fell to my knees. I wailed, I wept, I screamed an assault at the heavens. ‘Please, you are strong. You are powerful. Return her, please.’ I begged silently to Bellanaris, his presence still heavy in my mind. It was silent for several agonizing seconds before I felt more than heard his reply. 

‘I cannot. You hold only a fraction of my power, and it is not enough to remake her as she was.’ I stifled another sob, clenching her arms tighter in my hold. I stayed like that for a moment more, wallowing in the grief practically begging to be unleashed. I almost let it-almost let the violence coursing inside of me reign. I almost let it tear Par Vollen to the ground, set a storm upon the people as they’d never known before. It would be a reckoning like they’d never seen. If I could not save my sister, then I would kill every last one of those who had dared to harm her. 

...But Dia wouldn’t have wanted that. Diala cared about people-maybe, not the Qunari themselves, but she would not forgive me for harming the young and innocent. Of killing those few on this island who had no guilt in her mutilation. 

She cared far more about strangers than I had ever been able. 

But for her, and her only, I wouldn’t destroy them all. And so I choked down my rage, the fire refusing to go down smoothly. 

I stood on shaky, trembling legs, forcing myself back to my normal height. Diala stood there still, waiting patiently. She did not try to remove my grip from her or step away. This husk of the most important person in the world to me merely stared at me with no emotion, waiting for whatever cruel future awaited her. I sniffled loudly, forcing the next sounds to come out of me to not be wailing or sobbing. 

“It’s going to be alright, Dia,” I murmured, sliding my hands up from her arms and cupping the sides of her face. She stared into my eyes blankly. “I can’t protect your soul, but I will make sure they do not defile your body any more than they have. And you will be with mama and papa, and the rest of the tribe. I won’t let them hurt you anymore.” I caressed her face, brushing my thumbs over the skin under her eyes, over her nose, her lips, her eyebrows-all as if I could memorize it. 

I knew it couldn’t, but it at least gave me comfort to try. 

Minutes later, after I could not stall any longer, I pressed a final kiss to her forehead, and she turned to ashes under my palms. 

Something cold seeped inside of me. It slithered across my bones, traversed through the sinew and ligaments, inserting itself into my veins and forced its way into my heart. I felt it tingle across my skin like snow on the coldest nights in the Frostbacks; the nights when we would huddle together under as many pelts and blankets we could and still couldn’t get warm. 

I turned to face the Arvaraad still being held in the clutches of vines and roots. He was still struggling, thorns tearing deeper into his skin with every panicked movement. If he continued like this, he would bleed out too quickly. 

“Stop that,” I murmured, stepping over Dia’s ashes and approaching him. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, the terror keeping them locked there. “Why did you do this to my sister?” I asked coldly. 

“I do not answer to you Saarebas!” He snarled, but the fear echoed in his voice as clear as day. 

“You do now,” I replied simply, clenching my fist and watching with dark satisfaction as he began to scream. “And I suggest you talk quickly, Arvaraad. Losing my sister has made me more volatile than you can even begin to imagine.” 

…

In his dying breath, Diala’s former arvaarad stared into my eyes, and named me ‘Katari.’ 

One who brings death. 

I suppose it was an accurate title. 

...

Even with all of the power running rampant inside of me, I still had my limits. I began to feel the strain of those limits once I had finished burning the village to the ground. It snuck into my mind insidiously, weighing down in my limbs until I felt physically exhausted. 

‘You need to escape,” Bellanaris whispered in my mind. ‘Before they discover what has been done here. Before they find a way to restrain you again.’ 

“I-I don’t know where to go...we never saw the port we came in on...I’m so tired, I-” I trailed off, blinking rapidly and forcing my eyes to stay open. 

‘You must stay awake.`` He warned me. ‘You are powerful, but your body is weak, your mind is grieving, and your magic is depleted. You will not be able to put up a fight if they attack in numbers. If you must sleep, find somewhere hidden away and safe.’ 

I nodded, unable to verbally respond. I took a hasty speed out of the burnt village and into the nearby wooded areas. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Saarebas> 'dangerous thing' the term for mages  
> Arvaraad> Ranked in the military branch of the Qunari, they are the ones responsible for controlling saarebas.  
> Tamassran> A branch in the Qunari with power over a lot of things, including the administration of Qamek.  
> Ben-Hassrath> Agents/spies of the Qunari. Part of the priesthood.  
> Kost, Arvaraad. Ataash varin kata> Peace, Arvaraad. In the end lies glory.  
> Maraas Kata. Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun> Nothing is ended. "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun.  
> Katari>One who brings death. (AN: This is the name of a Qunari in the universe, but I really liked the idea of this being a term given by the Qunari to specific enemies of theirs. People who have wronged them and/or are actively being hunted by them. In this version, it's as much a powerful term as it is a curse to be known as Katari.)
> 
> AN: Well that's it for now! This chapter marks the halfway point in pages I've got written. If you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask! Thanks for reading guys, much love!


End file.
